Lost & Found
by RisingPhoenix17
Summary: Casey is found...but he's far from okay. Can Truck's new Candidate help him get back to normal? Rated for language, some violence, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder issues, and adult situations.
1. Discovery

He was still alive. Somehow. He'd been hoping for death this time, honestly, so the return to consciousness was a little disappointing. How long had he been out? …It didn't really matter now, did it? He wasn't usually one to give up hope, but at this point, he just wanted it all to stop.

The pain had diminished marginally. Either that or shock was finally starting to set in. Something crusty had dried on his chin and bottom lip. Blood, probably. That last beating had been a doozy. The concrete floor beneath his cheek was cold and damp. Faintly, he could smell the mustiness of his basement prison. Breathing was difficult – one of the men who were holding him captive had decided to practice his kickboxing routine on his ribcage, and his nose was almost full of dried blood.

How much longer was this going to continue? They'd held him for days now. Or was it weeks? He didn't know how long, exactly. Time passed differently when one was locked in darkness. He couldn't remember when he'd eaten last. Or slept. It had been several days; that much was certain. He wished they'd just kill him and get it over with. They weren't even trying to get information out of him anymore; he'd become a human punching bag.

He wasn't even sure of where he was. He couldn't hear any noises from the world above him. Was he even still in Chicago? Had anyone reported him missing? Was anyone searching for him? …Or had he been missing for so long that they'd given up hope?

The chains that kept him bound to the wall were biting into his wrists. He didn't have the strength to move himself out of this crumpled position, though, so he would just have to endure it for now. Tetanus wasn't exactly the way he wanted to go out, but it was probably his best option at this point.

Katya was dead. And it was _his_ fault. He had failed her and countless other women. He'd gotten in over his head this time. _Way_ over his head. He had underestimated Jack, and now he was paying the price. He had failed. An innocent woman was dead because of him. And who knew how many other women would suffer because of his failure?

He was so caught up in his despair that he didn't hear the small click of the door as it inched open.

A young woman peered cautiously through the slight opening that she had created, her long red hair spilling over her shoulder as she moved. The dim light from the hallway spilled down the narrow stairway and across the dank basement, running the length of the floor before rocketing up a wall. She barely stifled a gasp at what she saw. Her suspicions had just been confirmed.

A man was lying in a heap on the floor, dirty, battered, and bloodied. Chains ran from somewhere beneath his body up to the block wall. She recognized him! It was Katya's friend, the contractor that Jack had hired weeks ago! Was he dead?

Squinting, she leaned forward just a little more… There it was – movement! He was breathing! He was still alive! For now, anyway. He needed medical attention. But how? The police were looking for him, but she couldn't just call 911; Jack would have the man killed as soon as the police arrived. She couldn't leave him down there, either. What should she do?

Call her own 911, that's what.

Quickly, she eased the door closed, sprang to her feet, and ran down the hallway, heading for her locker and the cell phone that was buried somewhere in her purse.

...

Author's Note: Yeah, yeah, I know – I've got four stories going at once now. They'll all be updated/finished eventually, I promise.

Anyway…the plot and red-haired girl are mine.

This fic is gonna deal with some Post Traumatic Stress Disorder-ish stuff, so expect someone to be out of character for a while.


	2. Rainbows and Lollipops

**The previous day...**

"No, Abby, you can't borrow that jacket! …Because it's _July_ and I said so! …The last time you 'borrowed' clothes from me, they came back trashed. …I don't care, I don't want your _boobs_ touching my favorite jacket! And I don't want some random dudes touching my jacket, either! …Cause I don't like random-ass people touchin' my shit, that's why! …The answer is no, and that's final." She ended the call with a flustered "Ugh!" and shoved her phone back into her pocket.

"Everything okay?" Brett asked, taking a cautious step toward Truck's new Candidate.

Jenny Gentry flinched. She hadn't heard the medic follow her into the locker room. As she turned around to face Brett, she sighed, "Yeah. I guess I should just be thankful that she asked this time instead of raiding my closet like she normally does."

Brett chuckled, "One of those, huh?"

 _You have no idea._ Gentry thought, grinning awkwardly as she tightened her ponytail, "You know how everybody has that one quirky, strange friend that they really like but don't generally talk about in front of other people because of the strangeness and quirkiness?"

She nodded, smiling, "Yup."

Shaking her head, she started for the locker room door, ready to begin another day, "I live with that friend. Probably not the smartest decision on my part, but there's never a dull moment."

…

She could feel him watching her. He'd been watching her since her first day weeks ago. There was a time in her life when she would've killed to have him watching her. It was kind of odd now, though. Probably because of the fact that they now worked together. And because high school was well past over. She had ignored it for the most part, but somehow, today she just couldn't stand it anymore. She finished threading a hose through a drying rack and turned to face Squad 3's Lieutenant. "Okay, I give. What's the deal?"

Severide gave her an innocent smile, "What deal?"

Gentry raised one eyebrow, giving him a _Really?_ look.

He shrugged, not caring that he'd been caught watching her, "I just never thought you'd end up as a firefighter."

Confused, she cocked her head to one side, "Was I _supposed_ to end up as something?"

"I dunno. I always thought you'd follow your dad and be a cop."

Exactly to what extent had he 'thought' about her? Like, casually thought about her, or…? _Stop it, Jenny!_ She chuckled as she began to work on another hose, "I _never_ wanted to be a cop."

"No offense..." Capp started slowly, watching the hose that she was working with, "But you're a little old for a Candidate."

Gentry sidestepped quickly, avoiding the water that suddenly drained from one end of the hose. _That_ would've been embarrassing. She had four goals right now: don't get killed, don't get hurt, don't get fired, and don't do anything stupid. Playing it cool, she shot Capp a smile, "I know."

He was honestly a little disappointed by the fact that she had dodged the water. The house needed a good laugh, even if it came at the Candidate's expense. Capp pressed on, "So...why do it now?"

She shrugged, "I got tired of the daily grind and decided to do something with my life that actually mattered."

"Take a break, kid, you're wearin' _me_ out." Herrmann held up the checkbook that belonged to Molly's, "I need a second set of eyes."

"Yes, sir." Gentry smiled. Ever since Herrmann had found out about her being a bank teller before becoming a firefighter, she'd been Molly's unofficial accountant. It earned her brownie points with her new Lieutenant, which probably looked like brown-nosing to her coworkers, but she didn't care. She liked Herrmann, and he had been good to her so far.

"Any word on Casey?" Severide asked, already knowing what the answer would be.

Herrmann shook his head sadly, "No."

Gentry finished the hose she was working on, watching the dark cloud fall over the others at the mention of Casey's name. She felt bad for them. People didn't just up and disappear. Not unless they were running from something. Or unless something terrible had happened. _Was_ Lieutenant Casey running? Katya _had_ been found dead in his apartment. That was a shame, too; she'd always liked Katya, even though she hadn't known the pretty blonde very well. Abby had taken her friend's death especially hard. Had something bad happened between them? Had Casey accidentally killed her?

Herrmann looked at her, "You don't happen to have any inside info on the case, do you, kid?"

Why did _everyone_ think that she had 'inside info'? Her dad was a beat cop, not a detective! Gentry shook her head, "Dad hasn't said anything about it."

"I just can't believe that we haven't heard _anything."_ Mouch sighed, leaning against 81. "It's been almost two months. That's not good."

She hated this. The sadness and worry weighed heavily on the house. She didn't know Lieutenant Casey, but from the revered way that he was talked about, he must've been a decent guy. That thought stopped her. _Must've been_. Even she was beginning to think of him in a past tense. They couldn't give up yet. There were answers out there somewhere. She tried to sound positive, "Don't say that, Mouch. There's still hope. I'll ask dad again tonight if he's heard anything." She hoped she didn't sound fake. She truly hoped that this would all work out, but, to be honest, this wasn't exactly a rainbows-and-lollipops kind of situation. This was a _Dateline_ episode in the making.

…

Author's Note: I own Jenny and Abby. Thanks to airmac (Fear not, love.), Pallada, Sarrabr4, and HermioneandMarcus for the reviews! Thanks to Pallada, tina. benedetti3, and lynnenikko666 for the follows/favorites! Thanks also to my readers!

I start my new job this week (Yay me!), so I'm not really sure how that's gonna affect updates. I'm going into something that I know absolutely nothing about, and I don't yet know what shift I'll be on, so it's gonna be interesting.


	3. Not SEAL Team 6

**2:15 a.m., present day...**

What was that noise? Was that her phone? What the hell was her phone doing ringing at _this_ hour? Somebody better be dying...

Gentry flopped over unceremoniously in her nest of blankets and whacked around the top of her nightstand, searching for her cell phone. She found it dangerously close to the edge. It must've vibrated itself over there. Thank heavens for Otter Boxes. Blearily, she squinted at the name displayed on the screen.

 _Abby_

 _That_ woke her up. Abby was at work right now. Abby _never_ called her from work. Occasional texts, yes, but not phone calls. Quickly, she scrubbed her thumb across the screen lock and pressed the phone to her ear. Completely bypassing any pleasantries, she cut straight to it, "What's wrong, Abby?"

Her roommate/best friend's voice was little more than a panicked whisper, "Jenny, I was right! I _knew_ Jack had somebody in the basement, I _knew_ he did! Jenny, you have to come quick – he's in bad shape!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down." Gentry sat up, dangling her feet over the side of her bed. Abby had been going on for days now about her boss having someone locked in the basement. Jack Nesbitt was shady as sin and more than a little intimidating, but kidnapping and torturing someone? That had seemed a little farfetched. Abby was convinced, though, and now it looked like she had been right all along. "Did you _see_ this man in the basement?"

"Yes. Jenny, it's Katya's friend."

Her heart stopped, "Lieutenant Casey?"

"Yes."

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

"Call nine-one-one, Abby."

"I can't! I'm afraid they'll kill him as soon as the cops show up." The panic was growing in Abby's voice. "You _are_ nine-one-one, Jenny."

Gentry sighed, "Then what do you want me to do?"

"Come get him. Please? Call somebody to come with you. Like your dad! I can sneak you in and out. There's no camera by the rear hallway door – that's where they bring the new girls in."

"Are you crazy?! Hell no! I'm a firefighter, not SEAL Team Six!" She was not about to go sneak into a strip club's basement in the middle of the night to rescue some idiot who had crossed Jack Nesbitt! Hell no! That was _not_ her job! That was a CPD call! "Why the hell are you getting involved, anyway?"

"It's the least I can do for Katya. Please?"

Gentry let out a long, exasperated sigh. This was a police call. Hell, this was a SWAT call! She had no business whatsoever with getting involved in this mess.

"He's gonna die if we don't do something."

An image of a dark, damp, grody basement flashed in her mind. She imagined being alone. Wondering why no one had come for you. Scared… Hurt... That would be a crappy place to die. ...Damnit. "Ugh. Fine. Get your purse; I'll be there in thirty."

…

He fumbled with his phone for a few seconds before managing a sleepy "H'lo?"

"Kelly?"

"Jenny? How'd you get my number?"

"Never mind that. I need your help."


	4. That Would Be Our Escort

"Shit."

The whispered curse came from a familiar voice. Was it possible? Could it be? As he summoned the strength to open his eyes, he heard a slight plink as a tool touched the floor.

Someone knelt beside him and pressed two fingers into his neck, searching for his pulse. "He's alive."

"Sev..." Casey rasped, forcing his blackened eyes open. He'd managed to pick himself up off of the floor and lean back against a damp wall. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but it was better than the cold cement.

"I'm here, Matt. We're gonna get you out of this." Severide looked over his shoulder at the dark-haired woman behind him. She had a flashlight in one hand and her cell phone in the other. She also had a gun on her hip. "Be sure you get a shot of this." he said, indicating the chains that were wrapped around Casey's wrists.

Casey recognized the bolt cutters that Severide picked up as his own. He watched the woman turn her phone and light onto him as his friend readied the cutters. She was recording. This was really happening. He'd finally been found. He was moments away from freedom. He wasn't dreaming this time.

As he cut through the chains that bound Casey's wrists, rage rose within Severide. He wished he were cutting through Jack Nesbitt's fingers instead of the metal chain links. The light from Gentry's flashlight revealed bloody, infected gashes on his friend's bruised skin that had no doubt been caused by the continual rubbing and pinching of the chains. Nesbitt had better hope that the cops got to him before Severide did. He handed the bolt cutters to Gentry, who tucked them under one arm, "That's enough, Jenny."

"Are you a cop?" Casey asked, watching her lock her phone screen and slide it into her back pocket.

"No, sir." She unholstered her gun and cocked it, "I'm your new Candidate."

Before Casey could reply, Severide put his arms around him and lifted him as carefully as possible. Casey grunted as pain shot through his battered body, but somehow he managed to keep from crying out.

"Sorry." Severide apologized, waiting for Gentry to lead the way up the stairs. Casey had lost weight. The flame of rage grew.

Gentry was absolutely terrified. This was probably the most dangerous, stupid, insane thing she'd ever done in her whole life. But, she couldn't let her fear show right now. She was a firefighter, and firefighters didn't get scared. Tightening her grip on her gun, she started up the stairs, listening for any signs of Nesbitt or his affiliates. They had about three minutes left to wrap this operation up in, so they needed to move quickly.

 _A gun is like a parachute._ her father's voice said in the back of her mind, _If you ever need one and don't have one, you'll never need one again._

After her mother had been murdered, her father had taught both her and her brother everything he knew about guns and self-defense. She was a good shot, too. Hopefully, she wouldn't have to use her gun.

Upon reaching the top of the stairs, she paused, took a slow, steadying breath, and pressed her ear against the door, listening for any sign of Nesbitt or his partners. Satisfied that no threats were present, she softly knocked her first and middle fingers against the door in a one-two pattern. A second later, the knock was reversed from the other side. The all clear had been given.

Quickly, Abby swung the door open and hurried to the end of the hallway to open the final exit.

Gentry emerged first, gun drawn. "Clear!" she whispered over her shoulder.

Severide bolted from the darkness, trying to be quiet and not jostle Casey as he ran toward the redheaded stripper at the end of the hallway. Gentry followed behind him, shuffling backward, providing cover.

Abby pushed the exit door open, holding it until Gentry got to her.

"Go!" Gentry whispered, covering the door so that Abby could dash out into the alleyway. Once Abby was out, both she and Gentry ran like hell toward Severide's car, which was parked in front of the alley's entrance.

Severide skidded to a stop in front of the passenger side door, realizing that he couldn't get to his keys out of his pocket without putting Casey down. "Damnit!" Quickly, he spun around, "Jenny! I can't reach my keys!"

At one point in time, Jenny Gentry would've done damn near anything to get to put her hand into Kelly Severide's jeans pocket. Now was not that time. "So awkward." she muttered, jamming her hand into his pocket and dragging his keys out. Not wasting any time, she shoved the key into the door lock, gave it a twist, yanked the door open, and leaned the seat back as far as it would go.

"Get in." Severide ordered, moving to lay Casey in the seat.

Gentry pulled the keys from the door, grabbed Abby's wrist, and hauled her roommate around to the driver's side. Quickly, she unlocked the door, pushed the seat up, and climbed into the back, tugging Abby in behind her.

Severide slammed the passenger door shut and hauled ass to the driver's side. "Hang on." he warned, cranking the engine and stomping the gas. He left a black streak several yards long in his wake.

Abby turned sideways in her seat, watching for anyone from Stilettos to come running after them. What she found was almost as bad. "Um…Jen? Please tell me that's your dad and Rodney behind us."

Gentry looked up from the text message that she was typing and twisted around in her seat, "I sure as hell hope so." Bringing her flashlight up, she flashed a quick on-off-on-off at the CPD cruiser that was tailing them.

The cruiser's headlights flashed twice.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Gentry relaxed. She glanced up at Severide, who was giving her a questioning look in the rearview mirror. "That, my dear Lieutenant, would be our escort."

As she spoke, the cruiser's lights and sirens came to life as Officer Bobby Gentry gunned the engine, blaring past the Mustang before cutting in front of them. He was making a path to Chicago Med.

"Good job, girls." Severed grinned, easily keeping up with the police car.

"I can't believe you found me." Casey murmured, finally beginning to relax as the reality of his freedom started to really sink in.

"Of course we found you." Carefully, Severide put one hand on his friend's shoulder, "Did you think we were ever gonna give up?"

"Honestly...I was starting to wonder."

…

Author's Note: I also own Bobby and Rodney. Thanks to Sarrabr4 (My love!), and airmac (I hope you get a minute to translate your fic!) for the reviews! Thanks to TheShadowedVeil, Oiaso, CSINYNut, and jayrae1996 for the follows/favorites! Thanks also to my readers!

Start the new job tomorrow! Woot!


	5. Bad Day

**October...**

 _What if the results come back negative? What if it's not yours?_

Him, not 'it'. They were having a boy. And, of course the baby was his! Who else's would he be?

 _The math isn't quite adding up, man. You two have been separated for a while now. And if he is yours, how exactly are you gonna raise him? Co-parent? Dawson isn't interested in getting back together._

She might be once the baby came. He really wanted things to work out between them. He wanted kids _so_ badly. Finally having one with the woman he loved was a dream come true. They could make this work. They could totally make this work.

 _You shouldn't have to force something to work. Accommodate for certain things, yes, but not_ _ **make**_ _it work. It usually doesn't end well. Adding a kid to the mix isn't gonna make it any easier._

That was true… Holy crap, he was arguing with himself. Great. ...Well, they'd find out if the baby was his once and for all tomorrow. It wasn't that he really doubted Dawson; he just wanted to see his name on the birth certificate. Plus, he didn't ever want their son to question his origins just in case things didn't work out between them; he wanted him to know without a doubt who Dad was.

He needed to focus on what he was doing instead of stressing over this paternity test. Truck was in the process of clearing an old brownstone that was smoking like a freight train, and he needed his head to be one hundred percent in the game. What was in this place, anyway? The smoke was black as pitch! He could barely see his hand in front of his face with the help of his flashlight. …And where was everyone else?

Crap. He'd been so caught up in his thoughts that he'd gotten himself separated. Okay. No big deal. This floor was clear anyway; he'd just follow the wall that he was against to the stairway.

"Herrmann! Otis! Gentry! Anybody close?" he called. He really didn't want to use his radio. _That_ would look fantastic; this was his first big fire since returning to work, and he'd gotten himself lost!

No one answered. Where were they? A quick check of his air pack revealed that he was getting low. Fantastic. He'd need to put a little speed behind his exit.

Damn, that smoke was black! Quickly, he lowered himself to his knees, hoping for a better vantage point. It made little difference; the smoke seemed to follow him to the floor. It was beginning to make him feel a little claustrophobic. What the hell was _in_ here? He really needed to get out. It was almost as dark in here as it had been in the...

And then, it hit him.

The smell got him first. That damp, musty smell that had permanently branded itself into his nostrils. The smoke enveloped him, throwing him back into the darkness that he had spent almost two months in. The floor and wall became hard cement. His wrists ached from the phantom chains that still bound him to his own personal hell. His throat tightened as panic set in.

Out! He had to get out! _Now!_

He was trapped! He was back in that basement again! He couldn't _breathe_! He had to _get out of here_!

Desperately sucking in air while scrambling along the wall, he frantically swiped his hand back and forth, searching for an opening.

Air! He needed air!

Where the hell was the _door_!?

"Severide!" he screamed, hoping that someone – anyone – would hear him.

He was stuck in the basement! Had he ever escaped? Had his rescue and recovery all been a dream? _Why_ wasn't someone coming for him?

He felt like he was breathing through a coffee stirrer! He needed air! _Why_ couldn't he find the door?

Suddenly, a hand shot through the darkness, wrapping like a steel bear trap around his wrist before yanking him toward its owner.

Gentry.

Casey's eyes were full of complete and utter terror. He was having a panic attack. Quickly, Gentry gripped him by his shoulders and shook him as hard as she could, effectively snapping him back to reality. "Come on!" she exclaimed, regaining her iron grasp on his wrist as she began to lead him in the opposite direction, heading for the stairway.

She practically dragged him down the steps. Relief washed over Casey as he finally saw the rectangle of light at the bottom of the landing. They were a few steps away from the door when Gentry suddenly stopped, pushed him in front of her, and switched the position of their hands. He started to pause, but she pushed him forward. In that instant, he realized what she was doing.

She was making it look like he was leading her out of the fire. She was covering for him, hiding the fact that he'd gotten separated and had a panic attack. She was making it look like _she_ had gotten into trouble.

They staggered out into the street, pulling off masks, helmets, and hoods as they reached the line of fire trucks.

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant." Gentry apologized loud enough for anyone within earshot to hear, "That was a rookie mistake. It won't happen again."

Casey gave her a puzzled look.

"Play along!" she hissed under her breath.

He nodded, realizing that this was a continuation of her cover, "Right. See that it doesn't."

…

"Why did you do that?"

Gentry tossed the hose she had just rolled up into 81 and turned around to face her Lieutenant, "Do what?"

Just in case anyone was watching, Casey crossed his arms over his chest, trying to make it look like he was having a serious conversation with her, "You know what."

She nodded toward the other members of Truck, who were wrapping up the scene, "They needed to see that, Lieutenant. They're worried about you. _I'm_ worried about you. But none of us know what to do for you. They needed to see _you_ –their brave, fearless Lieutenant –leading me – the idiot rookie – out. Not the other way around."

"I'm fine." he argued, "I'm totally fine."

"You and I both know that you are _not_ fine. You had a panic attack."

He sighed, "Don't say anything. Please?"

"I won't." Playing along with the "serious conversation" act, Gentry shrugged as she stuck her hands in her pockets, pretending like she was embarrassed, "I promise."

…

"Outside."

Gentry frowned at Casey as she paused in her sweeping of the bay, "Sir?"

He looked angry and sounded angrier, "I said outside, Gentry, _now_."

Frightened by his sudden anger, Gentry dropped the broom and scampered out of the bay and into the early fall sunlight. She could feel the anger radiating off of him as he marched out behind her. What was going on? Had she done something wrong? Why was he so angry? She stopped and turned around to face him, "Lieutenant, what's-"

"Did I not ask you to keep your mouth shut about what happened today?" Casey demanded, getting dangerously close to her, "Did I?"

What the hell was he talking about? She hadn't said anything to anyone! She probably _should_ have told someone, but she'd kept her word. "What're you talking about?" He had a funny look on his face. She knew that look. Her brother, Chase, got that look sometimes.

"Don't play stupid with me, Gentry. Herrmann asked me about the fire, about why we came out together. When I ask you to keep your mouth shut, I expect you to keep your damn mouth shut!"

Exasperated, she threw her arms out, " _What_ are you talking about? I didn't say anything, I swear!"

"Bullshit! You ran straight to the first person you could find, and-"

"Hey!" Herrmann yanked Casey back a few steps, "What the hell is going on here?"

Casey blinked, like he'd just snapped out of a daydream. Why was he outside? He looked at Herrmann, who was anything but happy, and then at Gentry, who flinched beneath his gaze. She was afraid of him. What the hell…? "Uh…"

Herrmann didn't give him a chance to continue, "Look, Casey, all I did was ask you what happened today. All I wanted to know was what Gentry did wrong so I can work with her to correct it. That doesn't give you the right to yell at her. She's new – she's still got a lot to learn." Seeing the change in his Lieutenant, Herrmann gave him a hard look, "Now, if somethin' _else_ happened, we need to go to Chief right now."

Yell at her? He'd yelled at Gentry? For what? Frowning, he looked back at Gentry. Was that why she was afraid of him? He remembered Herrmann saying something to him about that run, but after that… …Oh, no. Had he blacked out? What had he said to her? What had he _done_ to her? He hadn't pushed her or something, had he? Oh, shit. What was _wrong_ with him?

Gentry watched Casey change. Just like Chase did when came back to reality. "Nothing else happened, Herrmann." she said, stepping around Casey, "I got lost. That's all. It won't happen again." She started back for the firehouse.

Herrmann gave Casey one more hard look before following Gentry. He caught up to her and draped one arm across her shoulders.

As he turned to face the firehouse, Casey's heart sank. The entire house was watching from the bay doors. Dawson had her arms wrapped protectively around her growing belly. Embarrassed, he dropped his head. What was wrong with him? _Two_ episodes in one day? Really? He hadn't had two episodes in a single day for weeks before this. He'd thought he was doing better. Obviously not.

Gentry stayed away from him for the rest of the shift.

…

It was late. He shouldn't be here. She probably wouldn't even answer the door. He couldn't blame her if she didn't want to talk to him. He wasn't exactly proud of himself right now. He paused for a moment before her apartment door, listening. There was music playing inside. She was singing along to it. She was pretty good. The song she was listening to made him feel like a piece of crap, though. He hesitated for a moment more, and then knocked as the chorus came back around.

"And she _swears_ there's nothing wrong  
I hear her playing that same old song  
She puts me up and puts me on  
Oh I had a bad day again.

"She said I would not understand  
She left a note that said I'm sorry, I  
I had a bad day again  
She left a note that said - "

The music stopped as her door swung open. She just stood there, dressed in Batman pajamas, arms crossed over her chest, looking at him expectantly. No hello, no are you okay, nothing. Just silence. It stung, but he understood it.

"I'm sorry. I…" He sighed heavily, "I had a bad day."

…

Author's Note: I also own Chase. Thanks to Naleyfan-2215, Sarrabr4, and HermioneandMarcus, for the reviews! Thanks to Naleyfan-2215, horsegirlsa, and Em-x. everlasting for the favorites/follows! Thanks also to my readers!

The song that I used is _Bad Day_ by Fuel. As I was typing the lyrics, I noticed the date on the album. That song is probably older than some of you who are reading this. It was definitely one of those damn-I'm-old moments…


	6. Fuzzy Pink Blanket

"I know that's not an excuse. I honestly don't even know what I said to you. But, it's bothered me since yesterday, and I wanted to apologize. You saved my ass and then I turned around and bit your head off. There's no excuse for that. What happened yesterday is _not_ me. That's not how I operate. So...I'm really sorry."

Gentry studied her Lieutenant for a long moment. He had a lot going on in his head right now; it reflected in his eyes. He looked downright miserable. She felt bad for him. "I forgive you." she said at length, "I know you didn't mean it."

Casey looked down at his feet, "I feel like a jerk."

"You're not. It's not your fault. ...I kinda know what you're going through."

Frowning, he looked up at her, "You do?"

She nodded as she opened the door wider and gestured for him to come in, "C'mon in. Let's talk."

He hesitated for a second before entering her apartment. As he glanced back at her, he saw the gun that was clipped to the back of her pajama bottoms. It was the same gun that she... No...no, he was _not_ gonna do that here. He had felt the now familiar tensing of his muscles as the memory had tried to surface. He was actually kind of proud of himself for stopping the flashback before it started. That made two episodes that he'd managed to stop today. Progress.

"My baby brother is a Marine. He's finishing up his third tour of the Sandbox." Gentry continued, motioning for him to have a seat on the couch as she locked the door and slid the chain across, "Chase has seen some pretty bad stuff. And done some pretty bad stuff. He has some of the same problems that you have like flashbacks, and panic attacks, and rages."

As he slowly sat down, Casey asked, "Don't they have tests and stuff in place to catch people that have those issues?" He watched her walk across the room.

Gentry nodded as she sat her gun on the side table and plopped down into the recliner, "Yeah, but Chase has figured out how to get around the red flags. He goes into what he calls 'soldier mode', and nobody knows the difference. When he comes _out_ of soldier mode is when he falls apart a little. ...He's getting better. I think he's been talking to their Chaplain some here and there. But he still struggles. Especially when he's stressed. That's why he stays with me when he's home; dad wouldn't let him go back if he knew about how hard Chase struggles some days." She folded one leg under herself, "Have you talked to anyone about what happened yesterday?"

Casey snorted, "I am so damn tired of _talking_ to people. I've talked to doctors, I've talked to therapists, I've talked to Chaplain Orlovsky... I'm just tired of it. ...I talk and talk about what happened, but I still can't sleep at night."

She looked closely at him, noticing for the first time that he _did_ look exhausted. "When _was_ the last time you slept, Lieutenant?"

"Slept or passed out?"

"Slept." Passed out? From what?

He sighed as he looked at his hands, "The night before Katya died."

"So...what've you been using since then?"

"Tylenol PM mostly." He hesitated for a moment before finally admitting, "And sometimes I just go until I can't anymore. …I have nightmares. Bad ones. Every night. ...I haven't said anything to anyone about what happened yesterday. My therapist wants to put me on medication. If I tell him, he'll really push it."

"That might not be a bad idea."

He looked at her, "Have you ever looked up the side effects of some of that stuff?"

She shook her head.

"I'll take my chances without it." Why was he telling her all of this? She didn't know him. She wasn't a shrink. She was just a Candidate. He wanted to stop talking, but now it felt like everything was beginning to pour out of him. He couldn't _stop_ talking. And...honestly...it felt kind of good to vent. He sighed again, "I'm just tired of being treated like an invalid. I mean, I know that everyone is worried about me. I get that and I appreciate it. I really do. But...I just want to be normal again. I just want to move past this and be _normal_."

"You will." Gentry insisted, "In time."

"I dunno." He buried his face in his hands as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. After a long moment, he continued, "Do you ever feel like no matter how hard you try you just can't seem to get ahead?"

"Sometimes, yeah." She didn't like the new tone that his voice had taken on. It sounded hollow, like he'd taken just about all that he could take and was on the verge of giving up.

Casey didn't know why he felt compelled to tell her this. He hadn't even told Severide yet. But, it gripped him, threatening to suffocate him. He needed to get it off of his chest before it dragged him down. His voice cracked as he spoke, "The baby's not mine."

" _What?!_ " Gentry gasped. How could that _be_? Casey had been so excited about that baby! It had been one of the few things that could make him smile. And it _wasn't_ his? Without thinking, she hurriedly moved to the couch and wrapped her arms around him, "Oh, honey. I'm so sorry."

He couldn't keep the waver from his words, "It's okay."

"No, it's not." She hugged him a little tighter, "I'm sorry."

"I'll get over it." He shrugged as best he could, "I should've known it was too good to be true."

Gentry didn't have a response for that. She'd known that something was up with him, but she never dreamed that it would be _this_. Poor Casey. She couldn't imagine that kind of pain.

They sat in silence for several minutes before Casey finally sat up a little. Gentry loosened her arms, but didn't completely release him. Instead of pulling away, he leaned into her. He knew he shouldn't, but his heart was breaking, and it was kind of nice to be on the receiving end of a comforting embrace. Even if it was from a coworker. "I shouldn't be dumping all this on you, Gentry. I'm sorry. You don't need my baggage."

"It's okay. You need to vent to somebody. I mean...I'm not a doctor or a therapist. I don't have any medical background at all. But I can listen. Maybe that's what you need; just someone to listen to you."

"Maybe." He sat up completely, pulling away slightly as he did so. As he looked at her, he noticed for the first time that her eyes were a steely shade of blue. "I couldn't ask you to do that, though."

"You're not asking. I'm volunteering." She shifted a little, not quite sure of what to do with herself now that she wasn't hugging him. It was awkward, but she pressed on, "I'd like to get to know you, Lieutenant. …While you were gone, everyone spoke so highly of you. It made me want to know you like they did." She looked down at her hands, which she had clasped nervously in her lap, "I'd like to help you get back to normal. …I'd like to be your friend." She felt shy and dorky, like a teenage kid. Which was dumb. She took a slow breath, calming her irrational jitters. Looking up at him, she asked, "Do you…do you think we could be friends? Is that allowed?"

Casey chuckled, amused by her awkwardness, "Of course we're allowed to be friends." He gave her a small smile, "I'd like that, actually."

She grinned, "Cool." Quickly, she glanced at the clock above the TV, "Hey, there's a late game coming on soon. Wanna watch it with me? That's a normal activity. I can pop us some popcorn, too, grab us a soda, y'know – make it extra normal."

At this, Casey laughed. It had been a while since he'd honestly laughed. It felt good. "You're in your pajamas. That kinda messes with the 'normal' aspect of this."

Oh, crap! She'd totally forgotten about being in her PJ's! She'd been so concerned about him that she'd completely ignored how frumpy she must look! Her _boss_ had seen her in her pajamas. Not in cute Victoria's Secret pajamas – oh, no. (She didn't even _own_ cute pajamas!) He'd now seen her in her loose, I-hit-the-clearance-rack-at-Wal-Mart men's Batman lounge pants and matching t-shirt that served as pajamas. Her hair wasn't even cute right now; it was just yanked up into a sloppy ponytail. She'd scrubbed her makeup off hours ago, too. Ugh. Fantastic. Heat crept up her neck and settled in her cheeks, "I can go change."

He smiled at her, "You're fine. Go fix us some popcorn."

…

Slowly, gently, he drifted up from the depths of sleep.

Sleep. He had actually, honestly, _finally_ slept through the night. It felt wonderful. Although he was still a little tired, he felt exponentially better. Sighing softly, he opened his eyes a crack.

A fuzzy pink throw blanket was draped over him. That was odd. He didn't own a fuzzy pink blanket, and he definitely knew that Severide didn't. Where had it...come...from...

Oh, shit.

His eyes snapped open as he took in his surroundings.

Oh, shit.

He was still in Gentry's apartment, lying on her couch, covered with what he assumed to be her blanket, resting his head on a pink pillow that smelled like her. He should _not_ be here!

Oh, _shit_!

With the exception of his shoes, he was still fully clothed. That was a good thing. Waking up in a strange place with clothes on was always a good thing. What time was it? And where was Gentry? Carefully, he sat up.

"Afternoon, sleepyhead." Gentry smiled from the recliner. She was curled up in the chair, wearing a black Metallica t-shirt and jeans with holes in the knees. She had a sketchbook lying open in her lap.

Immediately, Casey apologized, "Gentry, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be here. I didn't mean to - "

"Last time I checked, there weren't any rules about whose place you could crash at while we're off duty." Slowly, she unfolded herself, "You were out by halftime. I couldn't bring myself to wake you up."

"Oh." This whole situation was a little unnerving. He'd not only fallen asleep without the help of medication for the first time in months, but he'd done it at a coworker's apartment. Then, she had _moved_ him by herself, taken his shoes off, covered him up, and he hadn't known one single thing about any of it until he had opened his eyes just now. Exactly how deeply had he fallen into sleep?

"Do you feel better?"

"I do, actually." He picked his phone up from the coffee table, checking the time. It was three minutes after one in the afternoon. The last time he'd slept this late, he'd had the flu. And when had his phone left his jeans pocket?

"Good." She closed her sketchbook and slid out of the recliner, stretching when her purple sock-clad feet reached the floor. "You hungry?"

"Um…" He hadn't really had time to think that far ahead, but now that she'd mentioned it… His stomach rumbled before he could speak.

Gentry chuckled, "Good, 'cause I am, too, and I don't feel like cooking. There's a little diner about a block from here that has really good food. You in?"

Casey considered her offer. He shouldn't be here. Gentry wasn't just a coworker; she was _his_ Candidate, his subordinate. And he had just spent the night on her couch. Unintentionally, but still… He _was_ hungry, though… And it was just Gentry. It wasn't like they were romantically involved or anything. They were just friends, and friends could go out to lunch together, right? If he wanted to get back to normal, that was probably a good place to start. He shrugged, "Sure."

…

Author's Note: So, I decided to take this in a little different direction. I had some other stuff written, but it was getting pretty dark, so I scrapped it. I'm not in the mood to write depressing stuff, lol. Please don't skewer me over the baby not being Casey's. I haven't decided yet who I want the daddy to be. I'm leaning toward Mills, simply because I really liked Dawson and Mills as a couple. But, I may pick someone else. The season finale gave me an idea, so I may go with that… Thoughts or suggestions would be appreciated.

Anyway, thanks to HermioneandMarcus and Sarrabr4 for the reviews! Thanks also to my readers!


	7. Friends

Life had a funny way of crossing people's paths. A little more than twenty-four hours ago, he had been dealt a devastating blow. The two things he wanted more than anything else had been denied him. Broken and hurting, he'd ended up at his Candidate's apartment; at the home of a woman he barely knew, who had opened her door to him without question. His intentions had been simple: apologize to her for being a jackass. That's when life had intertwined their paths even more. He'd almost fallen apart in front of her, felt the comfort of her embrace, watched part of a hockey game with her, slept on her couch, used her shower… She'd held him, comforted him, fed him, and let him use her own pillow and blanket despite the fact that he'd ripped into her for no reason the day before.

And now, here he was, buckled into the passenger seat of her Wrangler like it was no big thing as they headed to a little diner for lunch, just like this was something they did regularly. It wasn't normal, but it was kind of beginning to feel that way. That was the whole point, wasn't it – feeling normal again? It was going to take a lot of time and even more effort, but he thought he was off to an okay start now that the initial awkwardness had begun to fade. Casey looked at Gentry, who was kicked back easily in the driver's seat, dark hair blowing lightly in the breeze that was created by her lowered window, mouthing the words to _Simple Man_ and keeping time by tapping her thumb against the steering wheel.

She felt his eyes, and shot him a grin, "Almost there."

"I really appreciate this, Gentry."

"You're welcome, Lieutenant. My door's always open ...You can call me Jenny, too, y'know."

He smiled a little, "Only if you call me Matt."

She frowned, "Am I allowed to do that?"

He chuckled, "Jenny, I crashed on your couch last night. I used your shower. I saw you in your pajamas. I'm pretty sure we're past the formalities part."

Gentry blushed as she smiled, making a mental note to have Abby help her find some cute pajamas. Her blush made Casey chuckle again. This was nice. Just two friends going out to eat. It felt normal to her. Hopefully it felt normal to him as well. Normal was the goal, after all.

"Hey, how's Abby liking her new job?"

She shrugged nonchalantly, "She really likes this place. She says it's classier than Stilettos. I didn't know strip clubs could be classy, but whatever. Says it pays better, too."

And then, there it was – a parking spot right in front of the diner, freshly abandoned, just waiting to be taken. That crap _never_ happened to her. As she whipped the Jeep into the perfect spot, she added 'buy a lottery ticket' to her mental note.

"Write the date down, 'cause that'll never happen again." she said, killing the engine and unbuckling her seatbelt.

Casey grinned as he unbuckled himself and got out.

The diner was still a little busy; the late lunch crowd was replacing the regular lunch crowd. They were ushered to a table on the patio, which was just fine with Gentry; the weather was nice today, and she wanted to soak up all the sunshine she could before another Chicago winter set in. Just thinking about last winter made her shiver.

"Cold?" Casey asked, noticing her small tremor.

She laughed a little, "No. I was just thinking about how close we are to winter."

He made a disgusted sound, "Don't say winter. It's too early for that crap." A few seconds of silence passed before he continued, "So, tell me about your crush on Kelly Severide."

Heat crept into her cheeks, "Who told you I had a crush on Lieutenant Severide?"

"He did. Said you'd had it since high school."

Gentry laughed out loud, "Honey, everybody with eyes and a working set of parts had a crush on Kelly Severide. High school was a long time ago. I'm older now, and a lot smarter." She shook her head, "I've heard about his escapades, too."

Casey grinned, "Sev's not as bad as he pretends to be. A woman like you would be good for him."

"In-house relationships are frowned upon." she pointed out.

He countered with, "But not that uncommon."

Their waitress appeared, interrupting the conversation. She took their drink order quickly, leaving a pair of menus in her wake.

As he studied the menu, Casey absentmindedly propped his elbow on the table and rested his chin in his palm. Stubble prickled against his hand, "Mmm. I really need to shave."

Gentry smiled, "I kinda like the scruff. Makes you look all rugged."

Casey looked up at her, raising one eyebrow, "Rugged?"

She blushed a bright red this time, realizing that she probably shouldn't have shared that particular thought.

He chuckled and went back to reading the menu. After a few moments, he tugged at the long sleeves of his shirt, making sure that his wrists were covered. It was now instinctual to do that every few minutes.

She watched him adjust his sleeves, his movements automatic and well practiced. He'd worn long sleeves every day that he had been back at work. According to some of the others, he'd begun wearing long sleeved shirts the minute the bandages had left his arms. She wondered how far she could get with him today. "Can I see?"

Casey's head popped up, "Excuse me?"

Gentry pointed to his arms, "Your arms. Can I see them?"

He hesitated. No one had asked to see his arms, not even Severide. He'd gotten used to always wearing long sleeves. The sleeves had become somewhat of a safety blanket for him. They covered up the biggest and most visible scars from his ordeal. They kept him from looking at the marks that would forever mar his skin. And they kept people from asking questions. Was he ready to show his scars to anyone? No, not at all. What would Gentry say? Would she be repulsed? They weren't exactly pretty… But, if he wanted to get better, he was going to have to get uncomfortable.

She sensed his unease, "You don't have to if you're not ready."

He wasn't ready, but then again, he wasn't sure he would ever be ready. Slowly, he pushed both sleeves up to his elbows and laid his arms on the table. He kept his eyes on her to avoid seeing his scars.

She hated the pain that reflected in his eyes. Had she pushed him too far? Probably. But, it was too late to back out now. As she looked down at his arms, she couldn't help but gasp a little.

"I know, they're awful." He tried to pull away, but she caught his hands.

"No." Carefully, she ran her fingertips over first his right forearm and then his left, gently exploring the scars that crisscrossed his skin from his wrists to his elbows. "Matt, they look amazing."

"No, they don't." He was amazed by how reverently she touched him. Every move she made sent a zap of electricity through his body. It occurred to him that she was the first person to touch his arms since his bandages had come off.

"They do, honey, they really do. The last time I saw your arms, Severide was cutting chains off of you." She turned his hands over and examined the underside of his arms, "Wow, you heal well."

"I wish they'd go away altogether." Casey quietly muttered.

"I know." She looked up at him but kept her hands on his arms, "They're a part of you now, though. But, they don't have to be a bad part."

"What do you mean?"

"You _survived_ , Matt. I don't know how, but you did. These scars are just proof of how strong you are." That sounded sappy as hell, but she was trying to make him feel better. Was she the first person outside of a doctor's office to see his scars? Probably. He had taken a big step just now. It was progress.

He offered her a small smile, grateful for her pep talk, but not believing a word of it. Yeah, he'd survived two months in hell, but he was pretty fucked up now because of it. He'd probably always be that way in some form or fashion. Gentry was just trying to make him feel better. Gently, he pulled away, "If you say so."

A black SUV pulled into a spot near the patio. Immediately, Casey was on edge. Black SUV's were rarely a good thing. The fact that Antonio Dawson got out of the driver's side didn't help. He was working today.

"Hi, Antonio!" Gentry grinned, standing to hug the detective across the small patio fence.

"Hey, Jenny." Antonio smiled, "How's fire life treating you?"

"Pretty good. I really like it."

"Good." He extended his hand to Casey, "How've you been, man?"

Casey shook his hand, "I'm better."

"Good. Um…I was gonna call both of you, but since you're here, I'll just kill two birds with one stone." He took a breath, "Jack Nesbitt was apprehended in Cancun about two hours ago."

"Bastard." Gentry muttered under her breath. After their rescue mission and Abby's mid-shift exit, Nesbitt had high-tailed it out of Chicago. They honestly hadn't expected him to be found.

Casey nodded, "How soon do you think he'll go to trial?"

Antonio shrugged, "You know how it is, Matt. Could be weeks, could be months. We'll let you know." Quickly, he glanced over his shoulder at the SUV, "I gotta run. It was good seeing you both. Be safe."

"You, too." Casey had seen someone shifting around in the passenger seat of the SUV. He didn't need to be able to see through the tinted windows to know who it was. It was a good thing that she hadn't gotten out; he wasn't sure he was emotionally stable enough to deal with her right now.

"Bye, Antonio." Gentry waited until the SUV was pulling away before she spoke again. "I'll go with you."

He knew what she was talking about, "You'll have to. You, and Abby, and Sev, and your dad and his partner will all have to testify."

"I know, but even on the days I don't have to testify, I'm gonna go with you." Somebody needed to go with him for moral support; reliving that nightmare would be very traumatic

It was a kind gesture, but he wasn't sure how he felt about her tagging along with him to court. He didn't want to recount the whole story. He didn't even want to tell Gentry about the torture that he had endured at the hands of a former firefighter, let alone tell complete strangers. He just wanted to bury the whole incident in the back of his mind and take it with him to his grave. But…he couldn't let Katya's death go un-avenged. "Jenny, you don't have to do that."

"I _want_ to go with you." Carefully, she reached across the table and put her hand on his sleeve-covered arm, "We're friends now, remember? Friends always have each other's back."

…

Author's Note: Fluffy little lollipop chapter, I know. Fair warning: the next chapter deals with some stuff that may or may not bother some people.

Anyway…

Thanks to aussietrueblue, HermioneandMarcus, airmac, and Sarrabr4 for the reviews! Thanks to girlwiththerednails and Vsanson11 for the follows! Thanks also to my readers!


	8. Nightmare

**_"MATT!"_**

Casey blinked, snapping back to reality.

Gentry was lying on her back in the floor, pinned beneath him, gasping for air, squirming desperately, her face turning red, both hands gripping his wrists, her fingernails threatening to break his skin and draw blood.

His hands were locked in a deadly vice around her neck.

Yelping, Casey threw himself off of her, frantically scrambling backward until he smacked into the recliner. He froze, horrified at what he'd done.

Coughing and sucking down precious breath, Gentry lay still as she became dizzy from the sudden rush of fresh oxygen and unobstructed blood flow. Stars danced before her eyes. Several moments passed before she slowly rolled to her hands and knees. She wobbled for a few seconds before looking up at him. No amount of her father's self-defense training could've prepared her for his frightening speed and sheer strength.

Angry red handprints marred the tender skin of her neck. She would have bruises by morning and for days afterward.

Completely mortified, Casey blurted, "Jenny, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay. You didn't mean it." Cautiously, she crawled toward him, trying to ignore the pain that was assaulting her throat. Holy shit. Holy frickin' shit. She'd never experienced something so violent and downright scary before. Chase had had some bad nightmares, but never like this. He had hit her before as she'd tried to wake him up, but he'd never choked her. He'd blacked her eye once years ago and was _still_ apologizing for it, but he'd never gone this far. Casey's nightmare was uncharted territory that she did _not_ like.

Recoiling, Casey pressed himself into the recliner, "Okay?! I could've _killed_ you!" How could he do this to her? What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he control himself any better than that? How could he hurt Gentry like that? What the fuck was _wrong with him_?! Was he some kind of monster now? He could've _killed_ her!

"But you didn't." She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into her as she sat down and leaned against the couch, still dizzy, "It's okay. You were having a nightmare." He was shaking almost as hard as her heart was pounding. She barely managed to fight the urge to tremble herself. She needed to be the strong one right now, even though every instinct she had was screaming at her to get the hell away from him.

Casey buried his face in her shoulder and clung to her, "I'm sorry, Jenny, I'm _so_ sorry. I swear I didn't mean to hurt you." He could feel a panic attack threatening to drag him under. He couldn't have an attack right now; there was no telling what the added freak out would do. It took everything he had to keep it at bay.

"I know." She began to rub his back as the fabric of her shirt dampened, "I know, baby. You didn't mean it. It's okay." Who was she trying to comfort – herself or Casey?

"It's _not_ okay. I could've killed you, Jenny. What would've happened if I hadn't woken up in time?" What would've happened if he'd come out of the nightmare to find her dead in his hands? What would've happened if he'd choked her just a few minutes longer?

She was silent for a moment, "Let's not think about that, okay?" Death had come entirely too close just now, and she didn't exactly want to dwell on the what-ifs.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." He swallowed hard, voice breaking as he began to lose control, "Please don't hate me. I swear I didn't mean to hurt you, I'm so sorry."

"I know, baby, I know." she soothed, rocking slowly from side to side, trying to calm him, "I don't hate you, okay? It was just a nightmare. I know you didn't mean it."

"I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't know what to do. It's never been this bad before." Did he need to go check himself in to the psyche unit? Probably.

She didn't know what to do, either, but she wasn't about to tell him that. "Just calm down, okay? It was a nightmare. That's all. It's okay." She hugged him tighter, "I'm okay, you're okay, and everything is gonna be fine. I promise."

...

Feeling a presence behind her, Gentry glanced up in the bathroom mirror. Casey stood in the doorway, looking absolutely miserable. Without a word, he entered the bathroom and stood behind her. Gently, he tugged down the top of her turtleneck, revealing the dark bruises that formed a ring around her neck. "I can't believe I did that to you." he whispered.

"Matt." She turned around, taking his face in her hands as she did, "You did _not_ mean to hurt me. You were having a nightmare. It's okay."

"It's _not_ okay. Stop saying that. _Nothing_ about this is okay. I could've killed you last night."

"But you didn't." She lowered her hands, "It's not your fault." The pain and self-loathing in his eyes tore at her heart.

He looked away from her, "It's a little early for turtlenecks. What are you gonna say when someone says something about it?"

She shrugged, "Tell 'em I had a bump come up and I bruised myself when I popped it."

"And when they ask why you're still wearing a turtleneck two weeks from now?"

"It was a really big zit."

Casey sighed, "Jenny, I don't want you to lie for me. Again."

"Sometimes you just do what you have to do." If this got out, he'd be gone. Simple as that. She knew it and he knew it, too. She wasn't going to let one incident get him shipped off to a mandatory mental health evaluation.

"Jenny - "

"Matt." She put one hand on his arm, "That's my story, and I'm sticking to it. Period. No one else needs to know about this."

"I'm sorry."

Gentry wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly, "Don't apologize anymore, sweetheart. It was an accident, okay?"

Casey nodded, surrendering to her embrace.

"What were you dreaming about, anyway?"

He was silent for a moment before answering with, "I escaped."

...

"What's up with you today?" Severide crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned back against his desk, "You look like you're way out in left field somewhere. Are you okay?"

Casey hesitated for a moment. Should he tell him what happened last night? Severide _was_ his best friend, after all. Maybe he would know what to do. He sighed as he pushed one hand through his hair, "I stayed with Gentry again last night."

"Okay. Did you two have it out or something?"

"No, I...I had a nightmare. A bad one." He hesitated again. Should he be doing this? Should he be telling anyone at all?

"And...?" Severide pressed.

Casey looked down at his boots, "When I woke up...I had my hands around Gentry's neck."

"You _what_?!" Had he heard that right? Had Casey seriously just said that?

"I hurt her, Sev. Her neck is black and blue because of me. The only reason I snapped out of it is because she screamed at me. ...And I honestly don't know how she had the strength to do that." He sank down onto Severide's bunk, burying his face in his hands, "I didn't even know what I was doing. I could've killed her and not known what I was doing until it was too late."

So _that_ was why Gentry was wearing a turtleneck under her duty shirt. He hadn't bought her random acne breakout story for one minute. He, like everyone else, thought that she was hiding a hickey. Chili had straight up asked her who had put a hickey on her neck. "Matt, you need help. You need to talk to your therapist about this."

"I can't."

"Why?"

Casey looked up, "Because if I do, I'm gone. I'll be taken in for a psychiatric evaluation and admitted. And then what? Would the fire department even keep me? Would I ever be allowed back on Truck? Would I lose my rank? I can't lose this job; it's all I have."

Severide didn't have an answer for that. "I dunno, man."

He sighed and shook his head, "This sucks. Being fucked up like this _sucks_. I can't sleep without having a nightmare. I get completely pissed off at absolutely nothing. Certain smells, and sounds, and thoughts trigger either a flashback or a panic attack. I talk to my therapist and to Chaplain Orlovsky like I'm supposed to, but nothing really changes. ...And just when I think I'm _finally_ starting to get better on my own - " – frustrated, he flipped his hand toward the door – " - I do some stupid shit like I did last night. Gentry is just trying to help me, and I..." – he buried his face again – "I almost killed her. ...I just want to get back to normal. I just want to be _me_ again."

Severide's heart went out to his friend. He'd been pretty messed up after Shay had died, and Casey had been there for him. He'd tried to be there for Casey now, but he felt like he'd failed. He didn't know how to deal with this. He didn't know what to say or do, and it made him feel like a failure. "Antonio called me yesterday. Do you think that might've triggered the nightmare?"

"Maybe. ...It's been a really shitty couple of days."

Seeing an opportunity to possibly help, Severide pulled his chair out and sat down, "How so?"

"Just has."

"Matt..."

When Casey looked up, his eyes held a whole new level of pain. He'd been dreading this conversation, mostly because he didn't want to think about it anymore. However, not wanting to think about it wasn't going to make it go away. It was going to be in his face every shift for the next few months, so he might as well get used to it. And, he was going to have to accept the fact that the dream of having a family with Dawson was now just that – a dream. "The baby's not mine."

Severide sat in stunned silence as the four simple words sank in. _The baby's not mine._ Wow. Just…wow. He couldn't imagine how devastating that news must've been. Casey had wanted to have kids with Dawson more than anything else in the world. He'd been so excited when he'd learned of the pregnancy. Severide had caught him looking at cribs on Amazon and researching names several times. And now this? Had the poor man not endured enough trials and tribulations in his life? Could he not have just this one thing? Instinctively, Severide moved to hug his best friend. "I'm sorry."

"Me, too." Casey sighed as he returned the brief hug, "I'll live."

"You know I'm here if you need me. I always have been, and I always will be."

"I know. Thanks, Sev."

...

"Gentry, my office. Now."

"Shit." Gentry muttered, sliding out from her seat at Truck's table and following after Severide. What had she done now? Quickly, she replayed the last three runs in her mind. She hadn't made any mistakes. That she knew of.

Severide didn't say another word to her until he had shut and locked his office door and closed the blinds. He stood before her, arms crossed.

Gentry swallowed hard as her heart began to race. What was this about? He looked kind of mad. "Lieutenant - "

"Let's see it." Severide interrupted.

Oh, crap. Did he know? She frowned, trying to act like she didn't know what he was talking about. "Sir?"

"Casey told me what happened. I want to see it for myself."

Oh, no! No! What had Casey told him? Why did he want to see her neck? Was he going to tell Chief Boden? Beginning to panic, Gentry dropped the formalities, "Kelly, he didn't mean to - "

His voice was firm, "Show me your neck, Gentry. That's an order."

She lowered her gaze, feeling tears beginning to sting in her eyes. Why was she getting emotional about this? Was it lingering shock from the trauma of having nearly been strangled? Or was it fear of what might happen to Casey? "It was a nightmare." she whispered as Severide took a step toward her, "He didn't mean it, Kelly, I swear he didn't." Reluctantly, she pushed down the neck of her shirt as best she could. A single tear splattered on the tile floor.

"Fuck, Jenny." Severide murmured, gingerly touching the black and purple bruises that encircled her neck. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." She closed her eyes as he lifted her chin to get a better look. Another tear slid down her cheek as his fingers brushed against her tender skin, "Please don't say anything. I don't want Matt to get in trouble. It was an accident." She fought the urge to tremble when he wiped the tear away with his thumb.

Suddenly, she found herself wrapped in a tight hug, pressed against Severide's warm body. He held her for several minutes before finally saying, "I'm not gonna say anything. If you want to try to help Casey, that's fine. …But, please…don't get yourself killed in the process."


	9. Cold Coffee

**November**

He sat at the head of Truck's table, pretending to read the morning paper. In reality, he was watching her sketch out Otis, who was playing tug-of-war with Pouch. She sat at her usual spot beside him, a pile of ready-to-mail bills and the checkbook from Molly's on one side of her, a sweating, unopened glass bottle of one of those little Starbucks Frappuccino things sitting between them, headphones in her ears, blaring Drowning Pool's _Bodies_. A crowd would gather around her as soon as someone else figured out that she wasn't writing out the bar's bills anymore. All of them had become her subject at some point or another. She was using her "public" sketchbook right now, which meant that Otis would shortly become the owner of her artwork. Her "private" sketchbook – the one that drawings didn't leave – was still in her side pants pocket. He knew for a fact that it was slimmer and slightly broader than the bright green "public" one, its cover was red, and it _always_ sat against her leg. It was a small thing to know this, but he was beginning to pick up on her mannerisms.

Briefly, his eyes flicked to her neck. It had been a month since he'd hurt her. The bruises had finally faded away, which was a tremendous relief. He'd hated seeing her in turtlenecks, and had hated seeing her sneak into the restroom to reapply makeup to her neck once the worst of the bruising had subsided. The hickey rumors had finally died down, too, thank goodness. Every time someone had said something about her "hickey", he'd wanted to punch them. Fortunately, he'd managed to restrain himself. An outburst like that wouldn't have gone over well. He'd had minor episodes since that hellacious night. Most of them had been fairly easy to control. He was pretty proud of himself, honestly – only one or two episodes had needed her assistance.

They'd been spending time together outside of work, but had kept it on the down low so as not to make people wonder. It was nice to have someone who had at least some understanding of what he was dealing with. He was finally beginning to feel normal again, which was also nice. He liked Gentry, he really did, and he wanted to spend more time with her, but…he was afraid. He hadn't spent the night with her since his worst episode. He was afraid he might hurt her again. As much as he wanted to spend more time with her, he just couldn't take that risk. He couldn't – _wouldn't_ – put her in danger like that again. All of that aside…he really enjoyed watching hockey games on her couch, and going to the diner with her, and riding around town with her, and the easy way she hopped up into the passenger seat of his truck…and the feeling of her head on his shoulder when she fell asleep during movies…

The _pop_ of her bottle lid grabbed his attention. Wordlessly and without completely looking up, she pushed the bottle toward him, stealthily offering him the first drink. He'd never had one of theses things before. Fancy coffee had never really appealed to him. And cold coffee? That appealed to him even less. He liked his black and steaming, but he didn't want to hurt her feelings. She watched him from the corner of her eye as he lifted the bottle and took a sip.

It was horrid. Cold and vanilla-y with a coffee aftertaste, it was utterly _horrid_. The face he made must've been amusing; she giggled softly as he returned her drink to the table between them. Still smiling, she took a quick drink before pulling one headphone out and offering it to him.

This was a first. It wasn't unusual for them to listen to music together, but they were normally in a vehicle and going somewhere. He'd never done this at work before. With anyone, let alone her. Would it look odd? Definitely. Did he care? …No, not really. There weren't any rules about sharing headphones. He took it from her and eased it into his ear. Mercifully, she'd turned the volume down. She pushed her phone toward him, letting him have control of the playlist as she returned her attention to her sketch.

Her music selection was predominantly rock. He scrolled along, noting some of the artists as he did. Creedence Clearwater Revival, Metallica, AC/DC, Guns 'N Roses, Evanescence, Daughtry, Nirvana, Lynyrd Skynyrd, 3 Doors Down, Shinedown, Fuel, Train, Bruno Mars… Wait… He scrolled back a few songs. Bruno Mars? Really? _That_ was random. Just to see what she'd do, he tapped on _Uptown Funk_.

Her eyes flicked up at him, inquisitive.

He raised one eyebrow at her and pointed to the phone screen, giving her a _Really?_ look.

Gentry grinned and returned her attention to her sketch, grooving to the beat.

Casey shook his head and continued scrolling through her playlist, spotting Pharrell's _Happy_ and several Maroon 5 tracks along the way. There were times – like now – when she confused the hell out of him. He settled on the Red Hot Chili Peppers' _Dani California_.

"That's a good one." Gentry said quietly, leaning one of her knees against one of his. She smiled to herself when he returned the lean. She really liked him, and it was nice to have someone to do things with. Not that she didn't like doing things with Abby; it was just hard to do anything with the kind of odd work schedule that her best friend kept. She liked hanging out with Casey, and talking to him, and going out to eat, and watching TV, and making him laugh, and the way his eyes sparkled when he gave her this soft little smile that she was pretty sure was exclusively hers… Yeah, she really liked him.

As the song played, Cruz and Chili began to make their way over to watch Gentry work. Casey debated on going back to "reading" the paper, but decided against it as the rest of the crews began to flock to their table. No need in wasting his front-row seat, right?

"I wish I could do that." Chili breathed, hovering over Gentry's shoulder as she worked on the details of Otis's hair.

Gentry smiled, "My mom was a phenomenal artist when she was alive. She taught me everything she knew."

Chili was about to say something else, but the tones dropped, sending the house scrambling.

…

It was the same brownstone from last month, same area burning, same everything. Gee, how convenient.

Casey didn't waste any time as he swung easily to the pavement from his seat, "Herrmann, Otis, grab a hose and hit the ground floor. Mouch, get us some water. Gentry, grab a hose – you're with me." They hadn't even made entry yet and he was already over this run. At least there were flames showing this time. Hopefully it wouldn't be a complete waste.

As his crew got into position, Casey assessed the building. Most of the fire looked to be on the second level. It would be good practice for Gentry. Squad could check for squatters. Everyone would have to be aware of their surroundings; the building's interior was questionable at this point. Should be an easy run, though. He took a deep breath, steadying himself. He could do this. He was _not_ going to let this place get to him again. He was stronger now. He could do this.

"Ready, Lieutenant?" Gentry asked from beside him.

He gave her a quick pat on the shoulder, "Let's go."

As she followed her Lieutenant into the inferno and up the same stairway that she had led him down not too long ago, Gentry could hear the old building popping and groaning. It was spooky. How long could they stay in here? How long could they _safely_ stay in here? Making entry always made her nervous. Her mind tended to jump directly to worst-case scenarios. Thus far, she'd done fairly well at hiding her fear. In fact, the last time that she'd been in this building, she'd been so focused on finding Casey that she didn't have time to be afraid. Maybe really focusing would help. Still, though, she wondered…would she always get nervous? Or would it eventually wear off? _Firefighters don't get scared._ she reminded herself as she let another loop of hose roll off of her shoulder.

Casey glanced over his shoulder at her as they reached the second floor landing, "You okay?"

"I'm good." she replied, trying not to sound nervous. Another loop of hose thumped to the floor. Smoke rolled and swirled around them.

"Looks like the worst of it is in the back. We'll hit that first."

"Copy that." The floor suddenly felt funny beneath her boots. She followed him cautiously, growing more and more uneasy with each step. The ceiling creaked ominously above them. Something wasn't right.

Casey slowed down, watching Gentry as she gingerly put one foot in front of the other, "Gentry, what's up?"

"Something doesn't feel right, Lieutenant – "

Above them, the ceiling made a loud _crack!_ , grabbing Casey's attention. He looked up just in time to see the plaster begin to shatter. "Jenny!" he cried, lunging at her as the ceiling came crashing down.

Gentry tumbled backward as Casey shoved her out of the way of the waterfall of debris. She landed hard on her back and slid a few feet on her air pack, but didn't lay there long enough to register any pain. As she pushed herself back to her feet, a support beam came flipping down from somewhere above them. Casey was just managing to right himself on the other side of the debris pile when the beam connected squarely with his helmet, driving him to the floor. "Matt!" she shrieked, running for him.

She'd taken all of five steps when the floor opened up beneath her.

…

Author's Note: Yes, I know that _Uptown Funk_ is billed under Mark Ronson's name, but, let's face it, Bruno Mars does the work here. Anyway… Thanks to Sarrabr4 for the reviews and to mycalmhidesastorm for the follow!


	10. Just Put A Band-Aid On It

_Bree-rrrr-eee-oop! Bree-rrrr-eee-oop! Bree-rrrr-eee-oop!_

Somewhere in the distance, Chief Boden yelled, "Casey! Gentry! Report!"

Casey groaned as he came to. The last thing he remembered was seeing a steel-toed boot heading straight for his head. ...No...that wasn't right. Not this time, anyway. Right? He tried to open his eyes, but immediately had to squeeze his left eye shut as it filled with a thick, sticky liquid. Blood.

With his good eye, he could see that he was in the basement again. But, he was wearing turnout gear and it was _hot_. That wasn't right. The basement was cold and damp, and he had been in jeans and a t-shirt. He shouldn't be in the basement, that much he knew was wrong. He should be... He struggled to get his thoughts connected... The brownstone. That's where he was. The brownstone was on fire again, and he was on the second floor.

 _Bree-rrrr-eee-oop! Bree-rrrr-eee-oop! Bree-rrrr-eee-oop!_

"Casey! Gentry! _Report!_ "

Casey managed to get onto his hands and knees and shook himself, trying to both silence his PASS alarm and clear his vision of the basement. That was a _bad_ idea. The movement made his head swim. He groaned as he fought the urge to vomit.

 ** _"MAAAATT!"_**

The desperate scream caught his attention. Jenny! That was Jenny! Where was she? Was she hurt? He had to get to her!

" _CASEY!_ " Boden roared over the radio.

And suddenly, everything came back into _very_ sharp focus. The basement faded away, quickly being replaced by what had once been a smoky hallway but was now a raging inferno. He became hyper aware of the roar of flames and the sounds of the building becoming more and more unstable. Adrenaline surged through his veins as his heart began to pound. A knot settled in his stomach. He had to get to Gentry. Now! As he hauled himself to his feet, Casey realized that he was beginning to panic. However, he also realized that he could harness the panicked surge of energy and use it to help him get to Gentry. For a moment, he swayed, fresh blood trickling down into his closed eye. Staggering forward, he hit his radio, "Chief! We've got a partial collapse up here! I'm trying to find Gentry!"

Something popped on the other side of the debris pile. Gentry screamed.

"Jenny!" Casey yelled, "Call out!"

"Matt!" Gentry shrieked.

It sounded like she was on the other side of the pile. However, the pile was obstructing most of the hallway, nearly trapping him against the back rooms. He would have to go over it. Not wasting any time, Casey began to scramble over the unsteady chunks of wood and plaster.

"Lieutenant, I can see her!" Herrmann exclaimed over the radio, "She's hangin' from the floor!"

"Fire's up to the fourth story, guys!" Severide warned, "Get Gentry and get outta there!"

So, the fire had already eaten up two more levels. That would explain why part of the third floor had collapsed. He'd missed that when they'd made entry. His mistake could've cost Gentry her life. "Herrmann, can you reach her?"

"We're tryin'! First floor's pretty well lit!" Herrmann replied.

Throwing caution to the wind, Casey surged across the mess and headed for the hole on the other side. Where was Gentry? Didn't Herrmann say that she was hanging from the floor? Shouldn't he be able to see her? Or at least see her fingers? And then, there she was. "Jenny!"

Clinging desperately to a splintered, groaning beam, Gentry dangled precariously above a carpet of flames.

He'd never seen so much fear in her eyes before. He had to get her off of that beam before it completely shattered. Glancing around quickly, he discovered that there was nowhere for him to safely rig up a carabiner and line. Great. That meant he had no way to pull her up or catch her if she fell. Well, he didn't have time to fret over that – he'd just have to haul her up the old fashioned way. Dropping to his stomach, he reached over the edge, "Grab on!"

"I can't!" Gentry half sobbed, "If I move, I'll fall!" As if to accentuate her point, the beam popped and shifted downward, making her scream as she slipped.

The fall wouldn't kill her, but it _would_ hurt her. If she landed on her air pack, she could suffer a spinal injury. If she landed on her side, she could break ribs. If she landed on her feet, the weight of her gear combined with the impact could break her knees or legs. Or both. It was considerably harder to get an injured firefighter out of a building than it was to get a scared firefighter out. He stretched a little farther, "I am _not_ gonna let you fall. You _have_ to grab on to me, Jenny."

Gentry was nearly petrified with fear. She didn't dare move – any change could send her plummeting to the floor below. She couldn't just hang there forever, though; she was going to have to do something before her weight snapped the beam.

"C'mon, baby, you can do this. Grab on to me."

His calm words cut through the fear that clouded her mind, one word in particular ringing louder than the rest. _Baby_. Whether he realized it or not, he'd just called her baby. She called him by pet names in private all the time, but he had _never_ called her by anything but her name. What did that mean? Had he meant to say it? She'd never know if she kept dangling. Before she could second-guess herself, Gentry latched on to Casey's wrists.

Summoning strength, Casey began to pull her up. His shoulders and back popped in protest of the added weight. His aim was to pull her up enough for her to grab on to the floor just long enough for him to get a better grip on her and bring her up the rest of the way.

Herrmann suddenly dropped to his knees on Casey's right side and Otis dropped on the left. Together, they grabbed Gentry under the arms and hauled her to safety.

"Go!" Casey ordered, clamoring to his feet. He grabbed the hose with one hand and Gentry with the other, heading for the stairs. Herrmann and Otis went ahead of them, ready to clear any obstacles. "Chief, we've got her!" he said over the radio, "We're coming out!"

"Copy that." Boden replied, "Make it quick."

They didn't need to be told twice. Otis hustled down the stairs first with Herrmann on his heels, and Casey and Gentry brought up the rear. Gentry missed a step and stumbled, but Casey caught her before she fell. He practically carried her the rest of the way out of the building and into the street.

Although she was still pretty rattled from the fall, Gentry managed to get herself semi pulled together by the time her boots touched the pavement. She'd seen the blood running down Casey's face; she needed to focus on him instead of her shot nerves. As soon as they reached a safe point, Gentry tore off her gear and began carefully removing Casey's helmet, mask, and hood. She didn't know how badly he was injured, but she wasn't going to wait on Brett and Chili to find out.

"Ow." Casey winced as she eased his hood away from the gash on his forehead.

"Sorry, babe." she murmured, dropping it to the ground. She couldn't tell how deep the wound was, but he was definitely going to need stitches. She needed to get the blood out of his eye, too. But how? She didn't want to just wipe it away. Suddenly, she remembered an unopened water bottle that she had stuffed into her coat pocket from a previous shift's run. Quickly, she grabbed the bottle from her pocket, twisted the cap off, and tipped it backwards against her closed lips, testing the temperature. It was hot, but not unbearably so. She handed it to Casey, "Here – rinse your eye out."

He took the bottle, leaned his head back, and poured some water onto his face, wiping the blood from his eye as he did so. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"What happened?" Chili asked as she and Brett reached the pair.

"I'm fine." Casey answered before Gentry could say anything.

"Debris hit him." Gentry corrected, "I dunno if he was knocked out or not."

"I'm fine." he insisted.

Brett began to clean Casey's wound, "You've got a pretty good gash, Lieutenant. I think you'll need stitches."

He huffed a flustered sigh, rolling his eyes, "Just put a Band-Aid on it."

Chili looked closely at him over Brett's shoulder, "Mm, no, I don't think so. You need stitches, mister."

…

She stood on the other side of the small end-of-the-hallway triage room, back pressed against the wall, trying to stay out of the way of the ER staff, patiently waiting for him. Casey didn't say anything as he exited the triage room behind his doctor. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a tight hug. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay." Gentry rested her cheek on his shoulder, "Are you?"

"Yeah. I've just got a few stitches."

"No concussion?"

"No concussion." He leaned his head against hers, thankful for the small amount of privacy that the hallway offered, "Was that your first fall?"

She nodded, "Sorry I freaked out."

"It's okay; happens to everybody. Don't worry about it." He wanted to just stand there and hold her, but the guys were waiting on them. Slowly, he broke the hug, "C'mon. Let's get outta here."

…

 **That evening…**

As she retrieved her phone charger and shut her driver's side door, Gentry spotted someone heading for the firehouse, walking very purposefully. She couldn't get a good look at him in the fading sunlight, but from what she could see, he looked to be in his late twenties. Probably wanting to be a firefighter. Best nip that in the bud right now and send him downtown; no need to waste Chief Boden's time. Hurrying to catch up with him, she called out, "Hi! Can I help you?" She'd used her friendly bank teller voice before she even realized it.

The young man paused just before he reached the bay door and turned to face her, smiling. "Hi. Gabby Dawson's expecting me. My name's Peter Mills."

…

Author's Note: Thanks to Sarrabr4 for the review!


	11. Awkward

Well, this was gonna be awkward.

"Oh wow, _the_ Peter Mills." Gentry smiled, extending her hand, "I'm Jennifer Gentry. You can call me Jenny. I've heard a lot about you." Her mind was racing as he shook her hand. The man before her was most likely the father of Dawson's child. Casey had mentioned something about that being a possibility, and Severide had filled her in on the history between the three of them. As emotional as Casey still was about this whole mess, things could get ugly very quickly. She needed to get to him before anyone else did and warn him about the potentially volatile situation.

Mills grinned, "Don't believe any of it unless it's good."

She laughed, "It's good, don't worry. You're sorely missed." She opened the door and motioned for him to go ahead, "C'mon, I'll take you to Dawson's office."

As he stepped into Firehouse 51, Mills took a deep breath and looked around. He missed this place. Badly. Being here now felt like he had just come home from a long trip. He'd gotten maybe ten feet into the bay before someone spotted him.

"Mills!" Otis exclaimed as he, Cruz, and Brett bounded over to dog pile the former medic.

Mills chuckled as he staggered backward, trying to wrap his arms around the trio, "I missed you guys, too!"

As the rest of the crews hurried over to greet their long lost friend, Gentry skirted the edge of the bay, searching for Casey. She was really hoping that he had gone to his office. That would be too easy, though. She spotted him just as he disappeared around the side of Truck. Dammit! Sprinting after him, she skidded around Truck's bumper…but it was too late.

"What're you doing here, man?" Cruz asked, taking a step back to join the crowd.

Mills beamed as he knelt down to pet Pouch, "I'm here to see the mother of my child."

That hurt. Oh, that hurt. Casey felt like he'd been slapped, kicked, and punched in the gut all at once. He'd guessed that Mills might be the baby's father, but still… Hearing it was just…overwhelming. He felt like his heart had been ripped from his chest. The only thing that had ever hurt worse than this was finding out that the baby wasn't his. He'd slipped a poker face on as soon as he'd heard Otis shout, but it was getting harder by the second to maintain that facade. He could barely breathe; it felt like someone had knocked the air from his lungs. Anger began to burn within him. _He_ should be the one saying things like "mother of my child". That should be _him_ "visiting" Dawson instead of avoiding her because it was still too painful to talk to her. _He_ should be the one with a smile that big. _He_ should be the one planning things like nurseries and play rooms. That should be _him_ up there, not Mills. Dawson had been with _him_ that night. When had she been with Mills? Granted, they _were_ still technically "separated", and both of them had done their own thing during that time, and he'd had that whole torrid affair with Beth, but then that one night had happened… That one night that wasn't supposed to mean anything or change anything, but _had_ meant something and _had_ changed things…

Stunned silence filled the bay. One by one, disbelieving faces turned Casey's way. Severide put a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. Casey maintained his calm demeanor by sheer willpower alone.

Mills' smile slowly faded as he stood, "She didn't tell you guys?"

"I didn't think it was anyone's business." Dawson quietly said, appearing behind Mills.

A cocktail of emotions swirled in a chaotic storm within Casey's mind and heart. He'd known this was coming, but damn, it hurt. The relationship with Dawson was done, but the prospect of a child had opened doors that he'd only been able to dream of before. Doors that had been subsequently slammed in his face. The anger rose higher at that thought. He _wanted_ kids. He'd _always_ wanted kids. He'd been positively ecstatic when Dawson had revealed her pregnancy to him. And now? Now, here he stood in front of _everyone_ , looking like an idiot because some _kid_ was really the father of what should have been _his_ kid. That should be _his_ future, not Mills'.

The anger boiled, mere moments away from become a rage. Logically, he _knew_ that he had no right to be angry with anyone but himself for screwing things up. He should've tried harder, made it work, chased after her when she packed her bags and left. But he hadn't. He and Dawson were over. Period. And she had the right to see whomever she wanted to see, as did Mills. They _were_ all adults here, after all. …That logic didn't make this situation any easier. That logic didn't make this situation acceptable in his mind. That logic didn't slow the fire that was threatening to consume him from the inside out. He clenched his jaws together, fighting to maintain control. He couldn't lose it here. Not in front of everyone. He'd lost it here once and made an ass out of himself; he could _not_ do that again.

Warm, slender fingers suddenly threaded through his, followed by a gentle squeeze. It completely derailed his train of thought, which immediately caused his anger to fizzle out. He looked down at their hands, then up at the owner of the hand that had so carefully taken his.

Gentry.

She'd never taken his hand before. Never, not even in private. What the hell was she doing? Taking his hand in front of the _whole_ _house_? Really?! Had she lost her mind? She couldn't do that here! Chief Boden would have a fit if he caught them! It was a thousand wonders that he and Dawson hadn't been written up. He really didn't want Gentry to get in trouble.

Smiling softly at him, she lightly rubbed her thumb along the side of his index finger. Wow, that was ballsy. Even small PDAs like this were supposed to be an automatic write-up. Boden had been _very_ lenient last time. He probably wouldn't be this time. The look on Gentry's face, however, told Casey that she really didn't care about that right now. She was focused completely on one thing – him.

It meant a lot. A whole lot. Rumors would spread like wildfire now, but Casey didn't care. All that mattered right now was the fact that the two people whom he cared the most about were standing beside him, offering both strength and comfort in this most humiliating and uncomfortable of moments. Giving her a small one-sided smile, he squeezed Gentry's hand and gave Severide a grateful nod. "I've got a ton of paperwork to catch up on." he finally said, keeping his voice even and emotionless, "Good seeing you again, Mills." He gave Gentry one more tight squeeze before reluctantly dropping her hand and heading for his office.

…

Author's Note: So, yeah, I decided to go with Mills. I dunno – I just love the Mills-Dawson relationship. He's cute, she's cute, they'll make cute kids, you know the rest… Fair warning – expect some serious mushiness coming up. Thanks to Dawsey Forever, airmac, Sarrabr4, lizzy-marie0623, sarahmichellegellarfan1, and my guest reviewer for the reviews! Thanks to XXArmageddonXX, lee.j.p, lizzy-marie0623, and sarahmichellegellarfan1 for the follows/favorites!


	12. A Better Yes

**Several hours later…**

Casey looked up from his paperwork as a small knock caught his attention. Gentry was leaning easily against the doorframe, smiling softly at him. "Hey." he grinned, "Is my light in your face again?"

She chuckled, "No. I sleep between Herrmann and Mouch and across from Otis, remember?"

This made him laugh, "I'm sorry." There were perks to having an office. He did _not_ miss the discordant symphony of slumbering firefighters.

"I'm sure." She stepped into his office and headed for his bunk, trying not to look as sore as she felt. Dangling from a splintered support beam in full turnout gear for who knew how long had done a number on her muscles. She'd taken plenty of ibuprofen, but it had yet to kick in.

It wasn't unusual for her to hang out in his office. Most of the time she would either sit on his bunk and draw or make small talk. He was thankful for the company, especially on rough days like this. Having someone close by kept his mind from wandering down dark paths. He watched her ease herself down into a cross-legged sitting position on his bunk, "Sore?"

"A little." she admitted, pulling her private sketchbook and pencil from her side pants pocket. "How's your head?"

He shrugged, "Still attached."

She was silent for a moment, her pencil hovering over the page, "You saved my life today."

Casey smiled softly, "How many times have you saved mine lately?"

She grinned, "Friends always have each other's backs, remember?"

He nodded, "Always."

With the pencil, she pointed toward his trashcan, which was filled with Red Bull cans, McDonalds coffee cups, and empty Tylenol PM bottles. "When's the last time you slept, babe?"

Embarrassed by the mix of totally unhealthy items, he faltered, "Um..."

"Really slept. Not Tylenol slept."

He sighed, "The last night I stayed with you."

"Matt..."

"I know, I know." He was silent for a moment before continuing, "I'm gonna have to move. I think that's part of the problem. Every time I walk in, I see Katya. ...The floor was replaced before Abby ever found me, but..." He stopped briefly, reigning in the emotions that were bubbling up as he thought of Katya lying in a pool of blood, dead in his living room floor, "I just can't do it anymore. ...I know it sounds stupid, but I can't even bring myself to walk on that part of the floor. I have to go around it. …Do you know how ridiculous that is? To not be able to walk on a certain place in your own home?" He paused again, swallowing hard to keep his voice from breaking, "Severide's already found another place. I guess he gets creeped out, too. He asked me to move in with him, but I dunno."

Had he been staying by himself all this time? If so, then it was no wonder he was plagued with nightmares! "You know you're more than welcome to stay with Abby and me until you find a place."

He frowned, "Would she be okay with me staying there?" Did he want to stay with Gentry? Yes, very much. Did he trust himself to not have another crazy nightmare? No. As badly as he wanted to stay with her, he realized that even though he _was_ getting better, he was a danger not only to her, but also to Abby. Casey knew that he couldn't live with himself if he hurt Gentry again, and he didn't dare take any chances with Abby.

Gentry nodded quickly, "Of course. Abby loves you."

How? How could Abby "love" him after seeing what he'd done to her best friend? Unless… Casey narrowed his eyes at her, "You never told her what happened, did you?"

Gentry began to draw, "No. She got the acne story just like everyone else. The only people who need to know about what happened are you and me."

"Jenny..."

She looked up at him.

"Please don't lie for me anymore, baby. It's gonna get you in trouble one day, and I don't want that. Abby needs to know what happened. "

Twice. That was twice that he'd called her baby today. What was up with that? Did it mean something, or was he just following her lead and beginning to use pet names? A man like him didn't just suddenly start using pet names. She went back to her sketch, her mind running a thousand scenarios, trying to figure out why this was suddenly happening, "I'm not worried about getting in trouble. I just want to keep you safe."

…

Casey glanced at his watch and was surprised to see that it was almost one-thirty in the morning. He was nowhere near done with his paperwork, either. Stupid incident reports. They were unnecessarily time-consuming. Ugh. It occurred to him that he hadn't heard a peep from Gentry in at least an hour. Stiffly, he twisted around toward his bunk.

She was still sitting cross-legged on his mattress, her sketchbook lying open in her lap, pencil hanging haphazardly off of one side. She was sound asleep, her head leaned back against the block wall.

He couldn't help but smile. She'd fallen asleep in his office before, and he'd either woken her up or just carried her back to her bunk. He hated to wake her, but her current position wasn't exactly the most comfortable. He didn't really want to take her back to her bunk, either. What would it hurt if she stayed the night here? The door was open, and he wasn't planning on sleeping any time soon. …And, truthfully, he didn't want to be alone right now. Sleeping company was better than no company. As quietly as he could, he eased himself out of his office chair and stepped over to his bunk.

She had been working on a sketch of him sitting at his desk doing paperwork. For a moment, Casey admired her art. The girl had talent, that was for sure. It was tempting to leaf through the other pages, but he had more respect for her than that. If she wanted him to see them, he would. Maybe one day she'd let him look through the rest of her private sketches. He closed her pencil into her sketchbook, marking her place, and sat the book on the corner of his desk. His next move would require some finesse.

Gentry gasped, jerking awake as she felt herself begin to move.

"Shhh." Casey soothed, easing her the rest of the way down onto her side and beginning to work his blanket out from under her, "It's just me. Go back to sleep."

"Sorry, babe, I didn't mean to fall asleep." Groggily, she attempted to sit back up, but he wouldn't allow it.

"It's fine, sweetheart, really. I'll set you an alarm for in the morning." Finally succeeding in freeing his blanket from beneath her, he covered her up and tucked the edges around her body. Carefully, he brushed a stray strand of her dark hair back into place behind her ear, "Go back to sleep."

"Lay down with me." she sleepily pleaded, "Please?"

For a moment, he hesitated. They shouldn't be doing this. He should be taking her back to her own bunk instead of tucking her into his. They could get into _so_ much trouble if anyone caught them. She was his Candidate. His half-awake Candidate. …It was cute, honestly. Did she even know what she was asking? Probably not. Did he want to lay down with her? Hell yes. Since sleep wasn't in the cards tonight, nightmares weren't, either. He couldn't hurt her if he didn't have a nightmare. _Go lock the door, you idiot._ said a voice in his mind, _Close the blinds and lay down with her. It's not like you're gonna have sex. Set yourself an alarm, hold her for a few hours, and get up before she does. She probably won't even remember this._

"Please?" Gentry's voice was little more than a whisper as her eyes slowly closed.

Softly, he stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers, "Let me finish the sheet I'm on, okay?"

"Mmm-kay."

Casey smiled to himself as he returned to his desk. She was so far out of it, the odds of her remembering this were slim to none. Was that what he wanted? For her to not remember anything? She'd never asked him to do anything like this before. His pen rested against the incident form as he pondered his response to her request.

Over these last few weeks, his priorities had changed. One of them – his top priority – was now sleeping peacefully mere feet away. Gentry had become much more than just a friend. She was his confidant, his therapist, his cheerleader, his anchor…his light in the darkness that was always waiting for a chance to overtake him. He realized now that he'd just been keeping his head above water before that fateful night that he'd showed up on her doorstep. She had helped him to pull himself up, and she had been there to catch him when he slipped. Just having some kind of understanding of what was going on in his head had allowed her to help him so much more than any therapy session had. He was stronger now – a lot stronger – because of her.

He wanted to hold her. He wanted to know what it felt like to have her in his arms all night long with no nightmares or interruptions. He wanted to go home with her and never have to spend another night longing to be near her again.

That gave him pause. Did he truly feel that way? Or was this just a side effect of his post-Dawson life? …No, it wasn't a side effect. He'd gotten so close to Gentry that he honestly hated being away from her. What if…what if he took her up on her offer? Just for a little while? It would be nice to not go to bed alone and wake up alone every day. Would she let him sleep in her room? Preferably in her bed, with her?

Herrmann knocked softly on Casey's open office door, breaking into his thoughts, "Hey, Lieutenant?"

"What's up, Herrmann?" Casey asked, looking up from his paperwork. Shit. He should've closed his door. No one needed to see Gentry in here, not even Herrmann. It was too late now, though. All he could do at this point was pray for mercy.

Herrmann eyed Gentry as he spoke, "I was just checkin' on ya. Your light's been on for a while."

He did his best to sound nonchalant, "I'm fine. Just finishing up paperwork."

"Oh. Um..." He shifted a little uncomfortably and leaned against the doorframe, "Look, I was wonderin'...and if it's none of my business, just say, but...are you and Gentry...y'know – a thing?"

Casey shook his head as he answered with a surprisingly rueful, "No." He'd wondered when someone would question his relationship with Gentry, especially since the hand holding thing from earlier. It had taken longer than he'd anticipated. How much should he tell Herrmann, if anything?

Confused, Herrmann frowned, "No?"

"No." He sighed, deciding to tell his friend the truth, "I'm still...dealing with some stuff, Herrmann. ...It's hard. ...Gentry is helping me. Her brother is on his third tour of duty, and he's got some of the same...problems...that I do. Gentry is trying to help me sort out all of the crazy, messed up stuff that's trying to take over my head. That's all."

"And that's why she's sleeping in your bunk?"

Casey shrugged, "I hated to move her."

"You've moved her before."

Holy crap, the man was observant! Could _nothing_ be done privately around here? "I just…really didn't want to be alone tonight." he admitted.

Herrmann nodded understandingly. He knew his Lieutenant had had a rough evening. And a rough recovery. He wasn't going to say anything about Gentry sleeping in Casey's bunk. He'd seen a change in Casey – a good change – that had been brought about by Gentry. Why would he say anything and mess that up? "…Is it true?" he asked at length, "Did Jack really do all that stuff to you? Did he really chain you to the wall?"

Casey looked at his friend for a long moment, debating on what to say. He settled on showing instead. Slowly, he pushed his shirtsleeves up to his elbows, revealing the scars from the chains.

Herrmann couldn't help but gawk. Everyone had noticed that Casey always wore long sleeves, but no one had ever gotten up the courage to ask why. Not even Severide had seen his arms. Anger sparked within the old firefighter, making his voice shake as he spoke, "I'm sorry, Lieutenant. I'm sorry you had to endure that. I'm sorry that you weren't found sooner. I'm sorry that you have to carry those scars. I'm sorry that you have to deal with all the stuff in your head. I'm sorry that we didn't burn this city to the ground looking for you. And I'm sorry that we didn't drag Jack Nesbitt into the streets and beat him to death with Halligan bars."

Casey gestured to his arms, "Herrmann, if this can save just one person, if this can put a hole in the human trafficking rings, if this can put a monster where he belongs…then it was worth it." Slowly, he worked his sleeves back down, "I'll gladly carry my burdens if it helps someone."

He shook his head, "You're a bigger man than me, Lieutenant."

"I've had a lot of help." He nodded toward Gentry, "There are days when Jenny is the only thing that keeps me sane."

Noting the affectionate use of Gentry's first name, Herrmann smiled, "So, tell me again why you two aren't a thing?"

A slow sigh worked its way out of Casey, "I don't have the best track record when it comes to relationships." Did he _want_ to be in a "thing" with Gentry?

"I don't think she's worried about that. I've seen the way she looks at you. …And the way you look at her." Herrmann took a step back into the hallway, "Sometimes the answer is no, Lieutenant, because a better yes is right in front of you."


	13. We'll Discuss This After Shift

_Thump-thump...thump-thump...thump-thump..._

A warmth that was downright cozy enveloped her, pushing her gently back toward sleep. She fought against it, knowing that she had to wake up. How long had she been asleep? It didn't matter, really; she needed to get up before she got them both in trouble. Ugh. So much for just resting her eyes. It was so _warm_ in here, though. And the steady rhythm beneath her cheek was really soothing...

Her eyes snapped open as her sleep-fogged brain put two and two together.

The gray fabric of Casey's duty shirt met her bleary gaze. She was tucked into his side, head on his chest, left leg entangled with his, arm draped across his stomach. A blanket covered both of them. His arms were wrapped tightly around her, cheek leaned against her forehead, slow breath puffing softly across her face.

He was asleep. Thank goodness. Heaven only knew how much the poor man needed the rest.

She smiled to herself, enjoying the intimacy of the moment. They should _not_ be doing this, and she _knew_ they should not be doing this...but…oh, hell with it – it felt _really_ good. Vaguely, she remembered asking him to lay down with her. She never dreamed he'd actually do it. Or that he would touch her face so gently. Or call her sweetheart…

Right here, right now, she felt safer and more cared for than she ever had in her entire life. All she wanted to do was lay here in the early morning peace and listen to Casey's heart beating. It could get them both into a world of trouble, but it would be worth it. How could anyone want to leave _this_? How could anyone just walk away from _this_? From _him_? She couldn't understand that.

She was falling for him. No, not _falling_ \- she'd already _fallen._ Hard. And she hadn't truly, totally acknowledged that fact until now. She had fallen for this man – her commanding officer, her close and dear friend, whom she had honestly not wanted to get involved with at first. She hated herself for ever thinking that rescuing him from that hellhole was a PD call. …But, the past was over with and done. All she could do now was keep moving forward. With him. It had been a long time since she'd cared about someone so much. It had been a long time since she'd been willing to risk losing her career for the sake of offering someone a few moments of comfort. It was worth it, though. _He_ was worth it.

Casey drew in a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and exhaled slowly, tightening his arms around her as he did. He was awake. "Good morning." he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

Gentry loved the way his voice rumbled in his chest as he spoke. "Good morning." she replied, giving him a one-armed hug, "Did you sleep well?"

"I did." He nuzzled her hair as he began to gently rub her back with one hand, "Did you?"

She snuggled closer to him, enjoying the attention, "Mm-hmm. Has the alarm gone off yet?"

Quickly, he glanced at his watch, "It will in about five minutes."

Gentry made a whining noise, "I don't wanna get up."

"I know. I don't want you to get up, either." It was like they did this every night. It didn't feel strange or awkward at all. It was definitely different, but in a nice way. Gentry's lithe body fit perfectly against his, as sappy as that sounded. He felt…calm…collected…and not crazy. Something about her just made all of the mess in his head disappear. Her hand moved from his stomach, making his heart stop.

Carefully, Gentry traced around the muscles of his torso with one finger. He'd gained his weight and muscle tone back. Stress had made that a very slow process, but he _was_ getting back to normal. She could feel dips, ridges, lines, and bumps as she moved. More scars, no doubt. A memory of what he had looked like when she, Abby, and Severide had brought him out of the bowels of hell flashed briefly before her eyes. It made her angry. Jack Nesbitt had better pray that his path never crossed hers again. Beneath her cheek, his pulse quickened as he shivered.

Damn, that felt good. He wished she'd use her entire hand instead of just one finger, but he didn't dare say anything. He felt something stir within that he hadn't felt in nearly six months: desire. Oh, crap. This was bad. He could _not_ do this! Especially not here! "I feel like I could sleep for a month and still not be caught up." he continued, trying to distract himself from the needy ache that was growing with every passing second.

She began to draw little circles and triangles on his chest, which didn't help any, "Come home with me today. We'll go straight home and take us a nice long nap."

Oh, how he wanted that. He'd made it through what was left of the night without a nightmare. That was progress. Any progress was good. Surely he could he make it through a nap, too, right?

Sensing his hesitation, Gentry propped herself up on one elbow and laid her wishes out before him, "I want to sleep with you. Just like we did last night. Just me and you, together, under my blankets, in my bed. Abby won't be awake yet, but I'll lock the door anyway. There'll be no stress, no worries, no interruptions, no bad stuff…just us."

A slow smile spread across his face at the thought of having her in his arms again. He knew he shouldn't want that, but… You know what? Fuck it. Fuck all of his fears and insecurities about what was and wasn't "allowed" and "okay" here. Fuck what anyone else thought. What he did on his own time was his own business. He was tired of worrying about nightmares, and flashbacks, and rages. He was tired of depending on coffee and energy drinks to keep his eyes open and his body moving forward. He was tired of having to nearly overdose on Tylenol PMs just to get a couple of hours of sleep. He was tired of living in uncertainty. He was tired of denying himself things he wanted because he was afraid. He wanted this. He wanted _her_. And he'd be damned if anything kept him from getting what he wanted. Herrmann was right; his better yes _was_ right in front of him. "I'd like that."

She grinned, "Then it's settled."

Casey reached up and stroked her cheek, "I don't know what I'd do without you, Jenny."

Immediately seeing where he was going with that comment, her grin softened, "You'd be just fine."

"I dunno." he sighed, "When I found out that the baby wasn't mine…I lost it. I quit. I gave up. The thought of having a child was what kept me from going crazy after Stiletto's. When I lost that, I lost my drive. I had nothing left, no reason to keep going. …And then you picked me up. I didn't see it at the time, but I do now. You kept me from going crazy. You gave me a reason to keep pushing against the crap in my head. You gave me a reason to live. I honestly don't think that I could've gotten to this point without you." That sounded mushy as hell, but it was all true.

Gently, she combed her fingers through his hair, "You're the strongest person I know, Matt. Everything you've been through – not just with Nesbitt, but throughout your life – it would've destroyed a lesser man. But, not you. You are where you are right now because of your own strength, not mine." The way he was looking at her took her breath away. His blue eyes had darkened. Not like they did when he was worried, or sad, or depressed. No, this was something different. He was looking at her like she was the most important thing in in the world to him. He was giving her that soft, sweet little smile, too. It made her heart pound. It made her want things that she knew were forbidden. …It made her not give a flying flip as to what was and wasn't allowed here in Firehouse 51.

She kissed him.

It took him a split second to register exactly what was happening. Her kiss was soft and tentative, like she was expecting him to pull away. He had no intentions whatsoever of pulling away. Instead, he cupped her jaw and kissed her back.

The world stopped. Time stopped. Everything stopped. The two of them were the only things that existed in this moment. Nothing mattered to her except the man who was holding her right now, tenderly returning her affection.

 _Beepbeepbeepbeep-beepbeepbeepbeep-beepbeepbeepbeep!_

Casey groaned in frustration at the sound of the alarm. He'd set it to go off only half an hour before the early birds began to stir. Breaking away, he smacked the annoying device, which sat on the nightstand just behind his head, barely resisting the urge to hurl it across the room. "You'd better go." he sighed, hating the disappointment that had taken over her face.

"Yeah." She _was_ disappointed. She could've kissed him for hours, but she knew that he wanted to try to keep her out of trouble. As she started to climb out of his bunk, he caught her arm and pulled her close.

Softly, he brushed another kiss over her lips, loving the way her breath hitched as he did. "We'll discuss this after shift."


	14. Cherry Chap Stick

**Fair Warning:** I was watching an episode of _Law & Order: SVU_ when I wrote part of this, so it may or may not bother some people.

…

"Was I too forward this morning?"

He watched her slide her key into the deadbolt and unlock her apartment door, "Would I have kissed you back if you were?"

She smiled at the memory as she opened the door, "I dunno – would you?"

Casey shrugged, following her inside, "Maybe I wanted to kiss you."

They were flirting, she realized. Very, very lightly, but it was flirting nonetheless. How long had it been since someone had flirted with her? As quietly as she could, Gentry locked the door, lowered her overnight bag to the floor, and began to work her shoes off, "Oh really?"

"Yeah." He shot her a grin as he placed his bag beside hers and took his coat off, "Maybe I liked it."

She hung her coat beside his and watched him take his shoes off, "Maybe I liked it, too." There was no 'maybe' to it; she had _really_ liked it. More than she probably should have.

Carefully, he took her hands and pulled her close, "Maybe I'd like to do it more often."

Gentry loved the way his arms felt as they followed her belt around her hips, "Maybe I would, too." Kissing him more often? Hell yeah – sign her up!

"Maybe…" He inched his face closer to hers, "Maybe I want to be exclusive with this kissing thing."

She gave him a flirty grin, looping her arms around his neck, "I'd be okay with that." _Okay_ with that? She was great with that! She was _thrilled_ with that! "We'll have to be really careful at work."

"I know. I can be careful. Can you?" She was giving him this sexy little look that was driving him crazy. Oh, the things he wanted to do to her right now! Things that would probably wake Abby up. Things that would probably wake the neighbors up. The couch wasn't too far away, though…

He was close enough now that she could feel his breath on her cheeks. "I dunno – you're kinda cute. Might be hard to keep my hands off of you." Hard? More like damn near impossible! She'd only had a few, brief tastes of him, but she was already hopelessly addicted.

Without warning, Casey captured her lips in a soft kiss. She made a tiny little noise and kissed him back. Her lips tasted like her cherry flavored Chap Stick and parted willingly, allowing his tongue access to her mouth where he could still detect the remnants of her morning coffee drink-thing. She pressed herself into him, and all of a sudden, he became a _big_ fan of cherry Chap Stick. And, hell, he could even see himself starting to like those stupid Starbucks drinks of hers, too. Especially like this.

This was amazing. No, it was better than that. It was soft and tender and passionate… It was perfect. This was perfect. _He_ was perfect. …And she sounded like a character from a dollar store romance novel. _Holy shit, can you not stop overthinking_ _ **everything**_ _for_ _ **one**_ _minute! Geez! Just fucking kiss him! Think about it later._ After several long moments, Gentry reluctantly pulled back just enough to catch her breath, "Let's go somewhere a little more private."

That meant her bedroom. Come to think of it, he'd never been in her bedroom before. Casey fought off a shiver as her hands drifted down his arms. She interlocked their fingers and led him across the living room and down a short hallway. Going into her bedroom – whether it was to nap with her, or to, well, engage in not-napping activities – brought them to a new level. A level of…what? Seriousness? She'd seen him at his absolute worst multiple times. She'd seen him both literally and figuratively broken and bloodied. She'd put him back together, brought him out of the darkness…made him smile again…made him laugh again…made him feel normal again. They'd been 'serious' pretty much since day one. Being taken into her bedroom was serious, yes, but it was also an opportunity for blissful isolation, for a brief escape away from all things 'serious'. It was an opportunity for softness, tenderness, intimacy, and honest-to-goodness rest. It was an opportunity that he was _not_ going to waste, regardless of what went down once that door closed behind them.

Gentry eased her door shut and locked it as quietly as she could. There were days when Abby could sleep through a Category 5 hurricane, and then there were days when Abby could wake up at the sound of a pin dropping on shag carpeting. She was really hoping that this would be a sleep-through-a-hurricane-day. Casey's arms encircled her waist again, pulling her gently back into his warmth. Turning to face him, she asked a question that had been burning in her mind since this morning, "Can I see?"

He frowned slightly, "See what?" He knew what she meant. He knew exactly what she meant. It had only been a matter of time before this question came up.

Gently, she ran her fingertips across his chest, "This."

Casey hesitated. No one had seen him shirtless since he'd left the hospital. It was silly, but he was very self-conscious about all of his scars. There was one in particular that he _really_ didn't want her to see. That was dumb; if anyone deserved to see his scars, it was her. ...If he let her see his scars...especially that one...would she be repulsed? Would she think of him differently? Would she...would she want him at all? She'd reacted completely differently to his arms than he had expected. Maybe the others wouldn't bother her. _Wow, really?_ said the small voice that now frequented his thoughts, _As much as she's done for you, as much as she's been through with you, as much of your shit as she's put up with, and you are_ _ **seriously**_ _worried about_ _ **this**_ _? Take your damn shirt off._

She continued to lightly caress his chest, "You don't have to if you're not ready."

Wordlessly, Casey took her hands and guided them to the topmost buttons of his shirt.

For a moment, Gentry froze. He was giving her permission to open his shirt. He was giving her permission to reveal things that only he had seen. He'd never really talked in great detail about his ordeal, and she'd never pushed him to talk about it, either. He was opening himself to her right now, though. This was a really big step for him. Carefully, she pushed the little white button through the buttonhole, and kissed the warm skin at the hollow of his throat that the fabric of his shirt revealed.

Casey's pulse quickened as the next button loosened and her lips touched his collarbone. Every move she made sent shockwaves ricocheting through his body. Another button loosened, fabric moved, and she kissed his chest. This felt _really_ good. Uncertainties temporarily forgotten, he couldn't help but shiver as the shockwaves began to settle somewhere south of his belt. Her nimble fingers made quick work of the rest of the buttons as she scattered soft kisses up his neck, sending little jolts of electricity straight down his frame. Thoughts of the growing list of things that he wanted to do to her began to once again dance around in his head. Damn, her lips felt _so_ good... Before he realized it, he whimpered in protest when she slowly pulled away.

"I'll come back in a little bit, baby." she murmured, "There's something I want to see first." Slowly, cautiously, ready to stop at the slightest sign of discomfort, she eased his shirt off of his shoulders and down his arms.

Reality came crashing down on him as she completely removed his shirt. This was it, the big reveal. Afraid to see her reaction, Casey stared at the tan carpet of her bedroom floor.

Gingerly, she began to trace his scars with her fingertips, wondering what had made some of them. He shivered as she traced a long line down his stomach that looked like it had been made by a single slash of a knife. Some of the other scars also looked like knife cuts, a few were from surgeries to try to repair some of the damage, some were old…and some looked like the scars that were left behind from cigarette burns. His chest, his stomach, his sides all bore the marks. Anger began to build within her as her fingers followed the ridges and dips. Kisses began to fall onto his skin as she suddenly had the overwhelming need to try to alleviate the pain that the wounds had caused. There were bumps here and there beneath her lips; the aftermath of bones that had broken and knit themselves back together. She worked her way around to his back and barely stifled a gasp. Lines covered his back. Lines that looked an awful lot like they had been carved by a hot chain. The anger flamed. She couldn't _begin_ to fathom the physical and psychological torture that this man had endured. Who _did_ this to another person? And _why_? What kind of _monster_ justified utilizing this kind of brutality? Anyone else would've lost their mind. Anyone else would've just given up and died. Not Casey. She kissed his back, knowing that she would never be able to make this go away, but deciding that she was sure as hell going to try. One hand reached his left side, paused, quickly traced the oddly shaped scar...and she froze.

Casey closed his eyes and sighed. She had found it.

"Matt..." Gentry whispered, kneeling beside him to get a better look at the thing that had caught her attention.

It wasn't very big, maybe one or two inches tall by two or three inches wide, about the size of the little steak brands that were sold in novelty magazines. It was an outline of a stiletto shoe with the initials JN sitting in the center.

That son of a bitch had branded him, marked him as property. And both in and around the scar, she could still see the ghosts of the fibers of the shirt that he had been wearing when the hot metal had been jammed into his ribcage.

Her vision went red and she honestly had to stay on her knees for a minute just so she could fight the urge to get her gun, go down to the jail, and put nine millimeters of hollow-point lead square into the middle of Jack Nesbitt's demented head.

The memory came to him despite his best efforts to keep it at bay. Jack had been drunk that night. Very drunk. He'd descended into the basement with the brand and a butane torch, asking Casey of he wanted to "come out and play". The sound of the torch roaring to life filled his ears as the glow from the super heated metal flashed before his closed eyes. Jack had gotten close enough to him that Casey could smell the vodka on his breath and whispered into his ear, "You belong to me now," before ramming the white-hot brand into his side. The last thing Casey remembered as he screamed in pain was the acrid smell of burning flesh and searing cloth. That was when Jack had started burning him. Not to get information...but for the hell of it. Just to see how much Casey could take. Just to hear him scream. Just to revel in the irony of a firefighter being tormented by the thing he lived to extinguish.

Gentry lifted his chin, bringing him back to reality. She had tears in her eyes as she whispered, "I'm so sorry," before wrapping her arms around him and holding him tightly.

"It's not your fault." he said, burying his face in her shoulder and returning the tight hug.

She was shaking as she blinked away her angry tears, "I'll kill him."

Casey gave her a little squeeze, "He's not worth it, baby."

Oh, he was _absolutely_ worth it. Avenging Casey was worth it. If she ever got even _half_ a chance, Jack Nesbitt was a dead man. And she knew just the "reformed" dirty cop who could not only make that chance meeting happen, but eliminate all of the evidence as well. No one deserved to have done to them what Casey had endured, no one. Not only that, but Casey now had to carry that bastard's mark on his body forever.

...Wait...maybe not... An idea was beginning to form in her mind. Would Casey go for it? Maybe. Maybe not, too - her idea was light years outside of his comfort zone, and she really didn't know where he stood on such a thing. It was worth a try, though. Tentatively, she brushed her fingers over the brand, "I can fix this."

He huffed, "How? I can't exactly wash it off."

"No." She kissed his shoulder, "But it can be covered up."

"Covered up?" Casey pulled back, but kept his arms around her, frowning as he did so, "With what?"

Gentry's answer was simple, "Ink."

He was silent for a moment as her proposition clicked in his mind. "You mean... _tattoo_ over it?" Um, no. _Him_ get a tattoo? Negative! No! Not gonna happen!

"Yes."

Skeptical, he cocked his head to one side and tried not to sound like he'd already made up his mind, "I dunno, babe. I'm not much on tattoos."

She took his face in her hands, "You're not property, Matt. You're not livestock. You shouldn't have to have that son of a bitch's initials on you forever. We can deal with the other ones, but that one has to go. You don't belong to him, and he has no power over you now." Pausing for a moment, she searched his eyes for any reaction to her idea. "I have a friend that's really good. You'll still be able to feel it, but it won't be visible."

He was about to argue, but stopped. She had a point. He _wasn't_ property, he _wasn't_ livestock, and he _didn't_ belong to Jack. Still, though...a tattoo? They _really_ weren't his thing. And what would he even get? What design did he like well enough to have it permanently put onto his body?

"Let me draw you something. If you like it, we'll go together and I'll have it put on my side, too."

What? No way! He shook his head, "I couldn't ask you to do that."

"You're not asking." Quickly, she stole a kiss from his lips, "I'm volunteering. I've been wanting another piece, anyway - "

"Whoa, whoa, hang on. _Another_ piece?" Had he heard her correctly? Another piece? As in, she had more than one?

She nodded.

"How many... _pieces_...do you have?" And why had he never seen them?

"Three."

Surprised, he looked her up and down, "Where?"

She shot him a flirty smile, grateful for the change in subject. "I'll show you if you ask nicely."

Thankful for the mood change, Casey gave her a wolfish grin, pulled her close, and kissed her hungrily. He pressed her body into his, memorizing the feeling of her curves against his chest and stomach. It would be really nice if there weren't any clothing between them. The achy need was back, pushing into her lower stomach. She had to feel it, he knew she had to. He didn't care; he wanted her to know what she did to him. She moved against him, pressing her body closer to his, fanning the flames of desire that were beginning to consume him.

Gentry was breathless when he finally released her. Wow. _That_ was an amazing kiss. She felt almost drunk from it, which was a first. She had also felt something else...something very hard and very needy...pressing into her stomach. He wanted her. In _that_ way. And she was perfectly okay with that, because honestly, she wanted him in _that_ way, too. Maybe they could... Was it too early? He didn't seem to think so.

His voice was low and husky when he spoke, "May I please see your tattoos?"

The lusty sound of his voice sent chills through her body. "Yes, you may." She took a couple of steps back from him and shucked her shirt off in one fluid movement.

For a moment, Casey just stood there, drinking in every detail of her. He wanted to touch her, to explore every soft curve of her body. He wanted to kiss her skin and finally know what every inch of her tasted like. He wanted to scoop her up and lay her on the bed and make love to her for hours before wrapping the both of them in a blanket and sleeping the rest of the day away. He made himself stand still, waiting for her to make the first move.

Little static sparks shot through Gentry when she saw the hungry way that Casey was looking at her. She suddenly became very aware of what she had just done, who she had done it in front of, the fact that her neon green bra did _not_ match her neon blue panties in any way, shape, or form, and the fact that she hadn't regularly been to the gym in...well...way too long. It was perhaps a bit late for those revelations now, though. …Damn, he was gorgeous, standing there in her bedroom all shirtless and hot and bothered. What would it feel like to have his skin against hers? To snuggle her bare breasts into his back as they slept? To feel his hands and lips on her? To feel him burying himself deep inside of her...

Okay, now _she_ was all hot and bothered. Better get this show on the road before she climbed him like a tree. She pointed to the trio of tiny little watercolor hummingbirds on her right shoulder, "This one is for my mom. When I was little, she used to tell me about the summers that she spent on her grandparents' farm. She always talked the most about the hummingbirds that would come in droves to drink from the flowers and feeders." Turning her back to him, she pointed to the life-sized dog tags that were tattooed onto her left shoulder blade – "Chase's tags." – then pointed to the life-sized police badge on her right shoulder blade, "Dad's badge. Because…y'know…they've always got my back." She turned back around to face him, "That's it. Nothing fancy. Just pieces of the people who matter the most to me."

It occurred to Casey that if he did decide to let her design a tattoo for the both of them, it would add him to the short list of people who mattered the most to her. No one had ever done anything like that because of him before. It was kind of flattering in an oddly unique way to know that she cared enough about him to have something representative of him tattooed onto her body, to keep a part of him with her at all times. That was just Gentry, though – oddly unique. He closed the short distance between them and looped his arms around her, "I like them."

She settled into his embrace and rested her cheek on his shoulder, loving the warmth of his skin and strength of his arms, "Really?"

"Yeah. They're meaningful."

For a moment, she was silent, debating on whether or not to tell him what she had already planned for her part of the tattoo. "I want to put your badge number in my tattoo. Is that okay?"

He smiled, realizing that she was probably going to get a new tattoo whether he did or not, "That's fine."

"Thank you." She began to kiss along his neck and collarbone again, enjoying the little tremors that shot through him when she had begun.

The shivers shot straight to his groin. He couldn't stand this anymore; something was going to have to give or he was going to lose it. "You're killing me."

Gentry grinned, "Am I?"

He pressed her hips into his, "I think you know what I want."

Wow, he was…wow… _Play it cool, Jenny._ "I think I do." She could feel his heart pounding against her chest.

"Are you okay with that? It'll change things."

She paused, confused and a little scared, and looked up at him, "Change things?"

Realizing that his words hadn't come out just right, he clarified, "Not in a bad way. It's…a big step. If we…y'know – and we don't have to if you don't want to, I just - "

She silenced him with a deep kiss, "Shut up and take your pants off."

…

Author's Note: Thanks to SweetKittyCat, aussietrueblue, Sarrabr4, sarahmichellegellarfan1 (To answer your question, yes, it is. October is still a long way away, and I needed to fill the time between Season 3 and 4.) and Dawsey Forever for the reviews! Thanks also to SweetKittyCat, DancinThroughLife, jigokunooujo, and emergency70 for the follows/favorites!


	15. Sincere Words

He was still alive. Somehow. He'd been hoping for death this time, honestly, so the return to consciousness was a little disappointing. How long had he been out? …It didn't really matter now, did it? He wasn't usually one to give up hope, but at this point, he just wanted it all to stop.

The pain had diminished marginally. Either that or shock was finally starting to set in. Something crusty had dried on his chin and bottom lip. Blood, probably. That last beating had been a doozy. The concrete floor beneath his cheek was cold and damp. Faintly, he could smell the mustiness of his basement prison. Breathing was difficult - one of the men who were holding him captive had decided to practice his kickboxing routine on his ribcage, and his nose was almost full of dried blood.

How much longer was this going to continue? They'd held him for days now. Or was it weeks? He didn't know how long, exactly. Time passed differently when one was locked in darkness. He couldn't remember when he'd eaten last. Or slept. It had been several days; that much was certain. He wished they'd just kill him and get it over with. They weren't even trying to get information out of him anymore; he'd become a human punching bag.

He wasn't even sure of where he was. He couldn't hear any noises from the world above him. Was he even still in Chicago? Had anyone reported him missing? Was anyone searching for him? …Or had he been missing for so long that they'd given up hope?

The chains that kept him bound to the wall were biting into his wrists. He didn't have the strength to move himself out of this crumpled position, though, so he would just have to endure it for now. Tetanus wasn't exactly the way he wanted to go out, but it was probably his best option at this point.

Wait…he…he knew where he was. He knew _exactly_ where he was. He was in Chicago, locked in the basement beneath _Stilettos_! Suddenly, _everything_ came rushing back to him. How did he get back here? Where was Gentry? Had they been kidnapped? Was she hurt? Who had taken them? Had Jack escaped? Or was this the work of his associates? _Where was Gentry?_

Panic began to build within his chest as his breathing quickened. It hurt, but he couldn't stop it. Forcing his battered body to move, he managed to shakily rise to his hands and knees. "Jenny?" he rasped into the darkness.

Where was she? Was she hurt? Where had they taken her? If anyone had hurt her…

His voice echoed on the walls. "Jenny?" he called again, praying for a response.

A horrible, awful thought suddenly hit him like a speeding train.

What if…what if it had all been a dream? What if…what if Abby really hadn't found him? What if she had been too afraid to open the basement door? What if she hadn't told Gentry? What if Gentry hadn't called Severide in the middle of the night? What if Severide hadn't cut his chains and rushed him to freedom?

What if Abby didn't exist?

What if _Gentry_ didn't exist?

Had _any_ of it been real?

…No.

It had all been a dream, formulated by his damaged mind in an attempt to deal with the trauma that he had experienced.

Gentry didn't exist. She'd never stood guard over him as Sev had cut his chains and rushed him to Chicago Med. She'd never pulled him from a fire while he was having a panic attack and taken the blame for getting lost. She'd never welcomed him into her home when his entire world had been falling down around him. She'd never tried to help him sort out the mess in his head. She'd never shared her days off with him, trying to make him feel normal again. She'd never smiled at him from the driver's seat of her Jeep. She'd never laughed with him from the passenger seat of his truck. She'd never shared her earphones and coffee drinks with him. She'd never spent hours sitting in his office, keeping him company. She'd never hugged him…never held his hand…never slept against his side with her head on his chest…never kissed him…never…never made slow, tender, passionate love to him for hours…

Never.

Because she didn't exist.

His ragged breathing echoed in the damp, unending darkness. He was hyperventilating, but that didn't even register in his panicked brain. His eyes began to burn as reality came crashing down.

He was still here, still in the basement, still chained to the wall.

No one was coming for him.

It had all been a dream.

He was going to die.

He was going to die _here_ in this dark, damp, isolated hellhole.

He was going to die, and no one would know about it.

Somewhere deep inside of him, something snapped. He literally _felt_ his sanity fray like a taut rope that had been slashed with a sharp knife.

" _Jenny!"_ he screamed with all his might, tears streaming down his cheeks, _"Jenny!"_

No one could hear him down here. No one could help him.

" _JENNY!"_

No one was coming for him. This was the end.

"Matt! Matt, wake up!" With all her might, Gentry shook Casey's shoulders, trying to pull him from the grips of his nightmare.

Chest heaving, still half screaming, Casey grabbed her wrists as the nightmare faded from his vision. He was sitting in Gentry's bed, beside her, surrounded by warm blankets. Both of them were naked. The basement, the chains, the dampness, the pain, and the cold were all gone. She was here. With him. He could feel her pulse racing beneath his fingers. Quickly, he loosened his grip before he left bruises on her skin and squeezed his eyes closed for just a moment, trying to make sense of what was going on. "Jen?" he whispered, voice trembling.

Gentry freed herself from his grip, pulled him close, and wrapped her arms tightly around him. He was shaking. "I'm right here, baby." she whispered, kissing his sweat-soaked hair, "I'm right here. You're safe." Wow, that nightmare had been _bad_. Not as bad as the time he'd nearly strangled her, but bad enough. It had taken her nearly five minutes to snap him out of it. She wouldn't be surprised if his screaming had caused one of her neighbors to call the police. Gosh dangit, he was shaking like a leaf in a windstorm!

"Jenny?" Abby called from the other side of her bedroom door, "Is everything okay?"

"We're fine, Abby." Gentry assured her as she rubbed Casey's back, "Just a nightmare, that's all." Something warm dripped onto her skin before trickling along her collarbone. It was followed by several more drips as his arms looped around her waist. She tightened her hold on her lover and murmured, "You're safe, sweetheart. I've got you."

Abby wasn't convinced, "You sure?"

"I'm sure. Go back to bed, honey."

"I'm sorry." Casey croaked, burying his face in her neck.

"It was a nightmare, babe." She kissed his hair again, "Don't apologize."

He tried unsuccessfully to stop shaking, "Is it always gonna be like this?"

How many times had Chase asked her that exact same question? Gentry didn't have a definitive answer. She wished she did. She'd give anything if she did. But she just didn't. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder was so unpredictable… "I dunno, sweetheart. If it is, we'll just deal with it." Slowly, carefully, she eased the both of them back down onto her mattress before tucking her fuzzy pink blanket around him.

After a few moments, Casey rolled onto his back, roughly rubbing the tears from his eyes, "I hate this. I hate _being_ like this. I hate not being able to control myself." He stared up at her ceiling, trying to will his heart to slow down, "I hate scaring you."

She scooted into his side and propped herself up on one elbow, "It's not your fault."

Frustration began to build within him. _Why_ couldn't he get this under control? "I should've never gotten mixed up with Jack Nesbitt. I should've never agreed to help PD with their investigation. I should've never let it go that far."

"Honey, you were trying to do the right thing."

He huffed, forcing his trembling to cease as he focused on the swirled pattern of the ceiling, "Fuckin' lotta good that did."

Gently, she stroked his chest, "Don't say that."

When he spoke again, his voice was hollow, "You deserve better."

Where the hell had _that_ come from? He'd gone from full-on freak-out to complete self-loathing in ten seconds flat! She frowned, "What're you talking about?"

Moisture blurred his vision again. He blinked hard, trying to make it go away before Gentry saw it. "You deserve better than me, Jenny. You deserve someone who doesn't stress you out, doesn't scare you…doesn't hurt you. You deserve someone who's not damaged."

"Matt…" She pressed her fingers against his jaw, making him look at her, "Don't say that stuff, okay?" His eyes were reddened with unshed tears. It broke her heart to see him hurting and miserable like this.

"It's true."

"No, it's not." Why did he think that way? He knew her well enough by now to know that if she didn't want him around, he wouldn't be. "I don't want anyone else. I want _you_. I don't care how damaged you think you are. I know what's in here," – she stroked her fingertips over his heart – "That's what matters the most. I want you, Matt, not someone else." She leaned over and kissed him softly.

He kissed her back, closing his eyes for just a moment in order to keep his emotions in check. This wasn't how he'd imagined his life would be. If you'd told him a year ago where he would be today, he would've laughed in your face. This wasn't _who_ he'd imagined he'd be with, either. But…he cared about Gentry. A lot. More than he'd ever thought that he could care for another woman. When Gentry slowly pulled away and caressed his cheek, he looked into her eyes and he knew. He knew without a doubt that she intended to stay by his side regardless of what came their way. This was where he was supposed to be. This was who he was supposed to be with. And, despite the challenges that came with his current state of mental health, he also knew that everything was going to be okay. "Jenny?"

Her fingers combed soothingly through his hair, "What, baby?"

"I love you."

Finally, one of them had said it. A slow smile spread across her face as his sincere words sunk in. As she leaned forward to kiss him again, she replied, "I love you, too."

THE END

...

Author's Note: First and foremost, apologies for the delay. I had some personal shit (for lack of a better term) come up that needed to be dealt with. Please bear with me as I get back into the groove. I'm hoping to post the final chapter of _Bring It_ soon. Provided I can convince myself to stop rewriting it. I'm legitimately stuck on _Bear_ and _Smoke_ , though, so any ideas and/or suggestions are welcomed.

Thanks to Sarrabr4, airmac, sarahmichellegellarfan1, aussietrueblue, and auryalbuquerque for the reviews! Thanks also to kayleighcharlene03, flutplyer16, xlyracharlottex, SlvrSrpnt, damagedgoods2012, Romantic Journalist, assietrueblue, SkyeBlu03, Just Me FD, jjchickybabe, harley001, stixandstones18, auryalbuquerque, fearthereaper15, ItsJustBecca, JTellersOldLady, Shannonpricey, katieroseann, and skiheidi16 for the favorites/follows!


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